


The Phantom's Shadow

by Elena_Ray



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: Angst, Erik is life, F/M, Noose, Phantom is amazing, Romance, Rose - Freeform, Roses, Shadow - Freeform, Shadows - Freeform, christine x raoul, life - Freeform, oc x phantom, phantom x oc - Freeform, phantomxoc, thephantomsshadow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elena_Ray/pseuds/Elena_Ray
Summary: Shadow and her friend Sarra have always wanted to work their way up to the famous Opera Populaire and get out of the low class opera they live at now. When Shadow's cousin, Miss Christine Daae, comes to take Shadow there, things at the Opera Populaire begin to change. Christine has been taken by the Phantom and when Shadow goes to save her, she finds herself entranced by him. She realizes his love for Christine and it breaks her heart as she watches Christine fall for another man. Will she help the Phantom win Christine? Or, will she plot with Christine's suitor to help capture the Opera Ghost?                                                                                                   I DO NOT OWN THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA OR ANY OF THE SONGS THAT ARE USED NOR DO I OWN THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!!





	1. The Phantom's Shadow

                All around me there is nothing but darkness, and I reach out and try to grasp anything tangible in order to find my barrings and understand where I am, but I can't. I frantically search for anything that can pull me out of this impending nightmare, but again, nothing.

                And then a lulling voice calls for my attention. In notes sweet and low it captivates me and gives me peace to ease my fears of the darkness. The song is not familiar to me, but the soothing melody gives me comfort enough that I am no longer afraid of the dreaded dark. In fact, I'm attracted to it now, in a way.

                Abruptly, my heart skips a beat as I hear an ear-shattering scream.

                **Sarra.**

                I shoot upright in my bed, clinging to my sheets, body trembling in a mixture between fear and allure. Frantically, my eyes search for my best friend and sister, Sarra. Her absence at the moment terrifies me more than it shoulder.

                                "Sarra!" My scream echoes through the room, as my eyes detect the sunrise just behind the windows.

                I find myself wishing for the darkness that had enclosed around me in my dream; yet, I always wake up wondering why I want it in the first place.

                And then I remember.

                It is because of that entrancing voice that I have grown attracted to the dark. That unparalleled voice that has somehow made itself known in my dreams.

                                "Shadow?! What's wrong?!" Her hasty footsteps come barreling into our shared room.

                My arms throw themselves around her neck as I find myself overjoyed at her very presence. She's not screaming, she's not harmed, she's not. . .dead.

                Sarra is alive and well, and she is right here with me.

                                "I thought you were dead!"  I wail the first thought that comes to mind.

                                "Why would you think I was dead?" She questions, pulling me back so she can have a better view of me as she speaks.

                Her question is redundant, for she already knows the answer. I've been having these dreams - no, nightmares - frequently. Sarra has always comforted me every time they've occurred, though she believes the dreams are nothing to be afraid of.

                 Her vibrant green irises stare intently upon me; those green eyes always manage to calm me slightly when I'm in need of encouragement or solace.

                                "M-My n-n-nightmare. . .I-I-I" I don't finish my sentence, and bury my face in her chest to try and hide from the world.

                Considering I'm eighteen, I know I shouldn't be crying like a five-year-old, but all logical sense seems to flow right out of me in these dreams. I've come up with the theory that the reason behind the madness is that my subconscious adores the darkness, and my waking mind fears it.

                Thus, the clash in ideals results in a break in my emotional state.

                                "Shh. Shh. Please tell me, dear Shadow, why do you fear that dream? Shouldn't being attracted to the darkness be good? After all, most are afraid of the dark. Why should you be afraid of not being afraid?" She wonders curiously.

                                "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

                She nods in understanding, her hand rubbing my back a bit more as I finally make an effort to gather my emotions. Sarra gives me ample time to recover, and soon, I feel at ease with the world around me once more.

                Sarra is easy to live with in this low-class, rundown opera house. She always takes the initiative in trying to empathize with others and how they view things so she doesn't have to argue with them as much. She's practically my sister, because we were both abandoned at an early age.

                 My father dumped me out in the streets when I was 16, after my mother died. Sarra's parents are both still very much alive, but they've just decided to leave her in Paris to study music while they travel the world on their own. When Sarra found me, she was 17. It's difficult to remember exactly how we found each other, considering I don't particularly care about remembering the time I spent in the streets, but Sarra says that she was sweeping the front steps of the opera house when she saw me.

                Pretty soon after she had found me, we both found that we each had similar aspirations, and that we were meant to be sisters. We both have dreams of one day making it up into the Opera Populaire. If we can't get a lead role, we'd still love to join the popular opera house as a chorus girl.

                In fact, my cousin, Christine Daae is a chorus girl herself in the Opera Populaire. When I first told Sarra that news, she had squealed and ranted for nearly ten minutes about how hurt she was that someone as sweet-looking as Christine would have left me in the streets without taking me in like family should. However, I reminded her that it was likely since my father was a drunk and cut off from his siblings, there wasn't a big chance that anyone in the family knew I existed.

                It had cooled her down enough to forgive Christine, but she was still upset that my family didn't know about my existence.

                                "Girls! What are you still doing here?! You should be rehearsing!" Our teacher, Madame Deferee, interrupts my thoughts as she barges into the room.

                                "Yes, Madame." Sarra responds coolly, barely even turning her head. "Come on, dancing and singing always cheer you up a bit."

                Pulling me into the dressing room, Sarra and I put on our outfits and begin stretching. We do a bit of dancing and sing the chorus of a few songs, which I greatly enjoy. Sarra, however, insists that I should be somewhere higher in the musical world. She claims I've a voice that even an angel would envy.

                If we take my opinion into account, that's up for debate.

                                "Oh! And what brings you here, Miss Daae?" Madame Deferee suddenly queries, walking back to the entrance of the opera.

                Daae? Could it be, my cousin, Christine Daae? Out of my peripheral vision, I catch a knowing look on Sarra's face, and I infer that she has something to do with this.

                                "Surprise." She says, as she steps over to me.


	2. I Become the Sister Of A Soon-To-Be Star

                                "Surprise?" I don't understand.

                Sarra responds as _she_ walks over to me with a smile. My cousin. Christine Daae is smiling at **me**!

                                "I found a way to contact your cousin and inform her about your whereabouts and the situation in which you ended up here. You have such a beautiful voice, I couldn't imagine for you to have it wasted. You deserve to go to the Populaire more than I do." Sarra explains to me.

                                "But. . .But what about you, Sarra? You're the one who deserves this! I'm never going to see you, and--"

                                "Don't worry about me. I did this for you, as a present. Please don't return the gift." She chuckles, as Christine finally makes it to me.

                                "Hello, Sister." Her voice is soft, like mine.

                My brows furrow upon hearing her call me her sister.

                                "But, I'm your--"

                                "My sister. I grew up an only child, and I've always wanted a sibling to grow close to. You even look a little like me! Please say you'll be a sister to me." Her chocolate brown eyes are alight with bright optimism and joy, and I know I can't let her down.

                Involuntarily, my lips curve into an exuberant smile.

                                "Madame Deferee? You won't mind if I take her to the Populaire with me, will you?" She turns to Deferee with an inquisitive and humble gaze.  
                                "Surely not, Miss Daae. Her voice is above average in this opera house and she deserves to live with her family. She will do well at the Populaire." She assures Christine.

                                "Thank you very much." Christine's attention is once again directed at me. "You should go gather your things. You can also say your farewells to your friends if you wish. I know you'll miss them terribly."

                I'm relieved that I'll have a few more moments while gathering my things to speak with Sarra, but all of those hopes are dashed when I begin walking over to her and see that she has my suitcase in hand - clearly, she'd thought all of this out in the beginning when planning this more me.

                The moment she hands me my belongings, we both wrap each other in a tight embrace that I never want to leave from but know I'll have to. Tears prick at my eyes as Sarra holds me close.

                                "I know you'll do wonderfully, Shadow. You always do."

                Traitor tears escape my eyelids, and it's in that moment that I never want to leave, not even to be with Christine or become a chorus girl at the Populaire.

                                "I'll miss you, Sarra."

                                "You won't miss me for long. You _will_ invite me to the operas when you become the star, won't you?" She nudges me playfully with a smirk.

                I assure her that I will, before we hold onto each other for a few more moments and then part from one another for what may be the last time.

                                "How come I've never heard of you, Shadow?" Christine asks once we're settled in the carriage that is outside.

                                "Well, my mother died, and then my father just left me to wander in the streets. He's a heavy drinker, so I guess the family cut him off and he never really told anyone about me. I was too much of an embarrassment for him." I try to give subtle cues that I don't wish to talk about it anymore, and she picks up on them.

                To my delight, she changes the subject.

                                "Where did you get the name 'Shadow'?"

                Not entirely a comfortable subject either, but better than talking about what my father thinks about me.

                                "Well, my parents always thought I was a shady character; rather mysterious and independent. My father wanted to name me Shady Sam from one night when he was in a drunken stupor. However, mother only said it once to appease him in his drunken state, before changing it afterwards to Shadow. After my mother died, my father kept calling me Shady Sam. Without Mother around, reminding him to call me Shadow, he kept forgetting. I kept the name Shadow for myself. I don't like either name, but Shadow sounds a lot better than Shady Sam.”

                Christine appears intrigued by my past, just as she has a right to be; however, the carriage begins to slow as we arrive at the steps of the Opera Populaire, and I swallow. Now that we're here, all of my confidence is beginning to wane.

                                "Don't worry. Everyone here will make you feel at home." She replies to my unspoken thoughts, but in my experience with the opera, I already know that everyone makes you feel at home. . .everyone except the prima donna.

                We clamber up the giant steps together, and once inside, Christine guides me to the large, crowded stage. Hundreds of people are rehearsing currently, for an opera called, _Hannibal_. As Christine shows me around to the others, I'm received with kind words, but stares that say otherwise.

                Stares that are intent with disgust and malice, as if I'm some sort of disease.

                Aside from the feeling of sadness that I'm not as accepted here as I was with my other opera friends, I also feel suspicion. It's as though I can sense someone watching me, though from where I am unsure. On instinct, I scan the rooftops, which would be the easiest place to hide.

                Seeing nothing, I am calm.

                                "And who is this?" A man interrogates as he quickly walks up to us.

                I can only assume he is the manager, and so I stand beside Christine while looking at the ground to keep from having to speak with him.

                                "This is my sister, Shadow." She nudges me forward to introduce me.

                                "Greetings, Monsieur." I greet him quietly.

                                "I thought you were the only child."

                                "Yes, Monsieur, but she's close enough to be my sister." Her light-hearted smile once again manages to produce feelings of giddiness to arise inside of me.

                                "Oh, so she has no relation?"

                                "She's my cousin."

                He soaks that in for a few moments.

                                "Welcome, Mademoiselle! I am Monsieur Andre. This is Monsieur Firmin," He gestures to a man who has appeared beside him, before continuing, "And the man who will be leading you in rehearsals is Monsieur Reyer." He extends his hand to a man with grey hair and a conductor's wand.

                I do a polite curtsy in greeting for each of them.

                                "I will not be singing!" A tall woman with a tall hat shouts as she begins to storm over to us.

                In her haste, I have no time to step aside and she knocks me over, not even bothering to send a second glance my way. Trying not look completely ignorant to the ways of an opera house, I accept Christine's hand, which is extended to help me up.

                                "Wait, Signora!" The managers call out, flattering her to try and make her stay. "Won't you please give us the honor of hearing you sing?"

                A prideful smile adorns her face as she chuckles light-heartedly in response.

                                "If my managers command." She turns to Monsieur Reyer. "Maestro?"

                He holds up his arms to get ready to conduct the people on instruments, and nods at the signora.

                                _"Think of me. Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye."_ Overall her voice isn't _terrible_ , but it's definitely over exaggerated.

                She drags every last word out much longer than necessary and her voice simply sounds like it was once beautiful and perfectly pitched, but with time and age, it has lost it's pretty quality.

                                "Who's that?" I inquire.

                                "La Carlotta. She's the prima donna."

                Should have figured she was the prima donna with the melodramatic episode she put on moments ago. Yet, the name of this woman rings a bell in my brain, and I can only guess that perhaps I've heard her name around in the streets or from the opera house at some time or another.

                Half-listening, half-trapped inside my thoughts, I'm yanked back into reality when a backdrop begins to fall from the ceiling; it heads straight for Carlotta. It hits her, but luckily misses her head and other vital parts of her body.

                                "Signora, these things do happen." Monsieur Andre tries his best to appease her in spite of the close call.

                                "For the past three years these things do happen! I need you to stop them from happening! Because until you stop these things from happening, this thing," She gestures to the set around her. "Does not happen!"

                With those words, La Carlotta is gone within moments.

                                "WE'LL HAVE TO REFUND A FULL HOUSE!" Firmin begins panicking, his eyes wide with both annoyance and terror.

                                "Christine Daae could sing it, Monsieur." A woman who I heard others call Madame Giry is the one who makes this offer.

                From the moment everyone in the Populaire heard the symphonic sounds that escaped from Christine's lips, I didn't get to see her as much as I wanted after that. Everyone was too busy making sure she looked just as stunning as her voice sounded, and it was absolutely necessary that I learn everything to perfection in the span of only a couple hours.

                So, my newfound sister was stripped from me.

                Though difficult, I prove myself worthy to be a part of the show that very night. Upon beginning to teach me, everyone has been rather skeptical of whether or not I'll perform well, but the managers seem to be quite impressed with my skill in learning so quickly. So, I'm told that I can perform if I desire, or opt out should I get too nervous for this one show.

                I am then led to - what is supposed to be - my room. However, it isn't long before someone comes in afterwards with word sent that Christine wishes for me to stay in her room, which I am glad of. I follow the messenger without delay to the room she and I are to share.

                Although when I arrive, the thought of Sarra arranging for me to come here so everyone can hear my voice and let me be the prima donna makes me chuckle quietly to myself in irony.

                                "Well, Shadow," I say to myself. "Sarra may have been sent here so you could be a star, but it seems you may have to wait a while."

                The same foreboding feeling of being watched takes over after a while of sitting in the room, and even though I know it's likely first day jitters, I feel the need to look everywhere around the room and make certain no one is there.

                Even after my thorough observations, though, the feeling does not subside, and I settle my eyes upon the mirror across from where I stand.

                                                                --------------------------------------------------

Phantom's POV

                Always present in my opera, always watching, I observe the newcomer that has been ushered in by my beloved angel just under the catwalk that I am standing upon.

                                "Christine, my Angel." I breathe to myself, the name making my lips buzz.

                Christine announces the newcomer as her sister, which I know is a lie; this information shocks me, seeing that I've never known Christine to tell so blatant a story to get someone in the opera house. Her story is enlightened when she explains that the girl is merely her cousin, just close enough to feel like her sister.

                                _Although she could pass off as being Christine's sister. Had I not known Christine's background I would have never thought twice about it._ I ponder, before focusing on my task soon at hand.

                The rehearsal starts as expected, with the uncultured toad screaming about how she'll not be singing if everything isn't perfect and exactly as she desires. Someone has obviously not informed the new girl of Carlotta's less-than-selfless attitude toward others, because moments later the girl is hastily pushed to the ground as the prima donna marches over to the managers.

                The smallest ounce of pity swells in my heart for her, but it's quickly washed away once I remember the plan I have ready to unfold. As is to be predicted, the managers grovel their way into keeping Carlotta from leaving, and thus request that she sing for them.

                Happy to have the spotlight and flattering compliments on her, she acquiesces without the slightest hesitation. And that is when I make my way to the catwalk above the backdrops, releasing a rope from around its docket to make it fall.

                It heads straight for the prima donna, knocking her to her knees, though I wouldn't have cared much if it had struck her on the head and disposed of her incessant crooning. Said crooning ensued moments after the incident, and she storms off with the look of murder.

                Everyone starts to panic about who will sing, but I know that Giry will make certain Christine gets heard; then she will become the prima donna once every one hears the angelic tones she has been gifted with.

                Soon, my angel will be the star of my opera.

                Once every one hears her voice, it's all over from there. There's no doubt that my beloved Christine will be the star of the show tonight. I use the next couple of hours to check all of my traps, make sure everyone is where they're supposed to be, and watch the tail end of rehearsal for the show.

                The young girl that is the cousin to Christine appears to have learned her part rapidly, and I would be lying to say I'm not at least slightly impressed.

                A few of the instructors begin leading her away, and out of curiosity, I follow them to see where they'll take her. Then, I walk to the prima donna room, to make sure everything in there is arranged perfectly for Christine. Moments after I arrive behind the mirror in her room, the girl - Shadow, I believe her name is - is led into this room.

                Curiosity courses through me as I watch her take in her surroundings. It seems she is a perceptive one, considering I can tell by the way she analyzes the room that she feels like she's being watched.

                At last, when she is finished looking around, her eyes land upon the mirror I'm standing behind.


	3. A Performance I Was Not Meant To Attend

Shadow's POV

                A knock at the door jars me back into reality.

                                "P-Please, come in." I call, my heart in my throat.

                Christine walks, no, **glides** in with a beautiful smile, and it makes me happy to know that that smile is just for me.

                                "Are you ready for tonight?" She queries, her voice excited.

                                "I don't know. I mean, I guess I am."

                In all honesty, I don't feel ready at all. My unease from moments ago seems to have completely wiped my memory of everything I'm to be doing tonight. I find myself wishing Sarra would have contacted Christine sooner, so I'd be more equip for what is to come.

                Another factor in my uncertainty for the show, is that this opera house seems to amplify my feelings of allure for the darkness in my dreams. A feeling of foreshadowing seems to resonate within my bones, and I can hear the darkness calling me.

                                _Shadow_. I could promise that I hear a voice calling me.

                When Christine looks into my eyes, I can tell she senses my nerves.

                                "Are you alright, Shadow?"

                I want to tell her the truth. I wish to speak with her about every fear about the darkness that ails me. I desire to confide in her about how I feel like I'm being watched and can hear voices all around me.

                                "Just nightmares I had over at the other opera house." I exhale, glad to have the confession escape.

                                "Aww, well, don't worry about that at the moment. I'm here with you now." She grins. "You'll be alright."

                As though fate is mocking me, I suddenly hear someone scream. The prima donna from earlier - Carlotta - storms into our room and walks up to me, getting right in my face.

                                "HOW DARE YOU!!" She slaps me once across the cheek, so hard that I'd have been more pleased if she had punched me.

                The cool feeling from being smacked makes it feel like my cheek is bleeding, but I'm too concerned with what on Earth I've done to make her so mad at me.

                                "Signora!" Christine exclaims. "Why would you do such a thing?! What has she done to you? She just got here!"

                                "What has she done to me?! She's trying to take the spotlight away from me! Just like **you**! Why else would she have come here?! A famous Daae! I would have absolutely no doubt in my mind that you **both** are working to get me out of here _together_!" She yells furiously.

                                "Signora, please! She just got here. No one has even heard her sing!"

                Carlotta clearly has no intention of listening to Christine's explanation, because she turns on her heel while Christine is talking and leaves without so much as a second glance at me.

                A light pressure is felt on my cheek, and I realize that Christine is kissing my cheek. Soon, she has me collected in her arms and is whispering reassuring words to me.

                                "It'll be okay, Shadow. Don't mind her. She's just the prima donna. Are you okay? Do you feel like you're well-trained enough from today to do the show?"

                My mind could care less about the performance tonight at this point. My parents used to always lose their tempers with me before I was orphaned. I'm used to being yelled at, both for things I deserve and things I don't, but never before has anyone ever been angry enough with me to **slap** me.

                                "Would you like me to give you a minute?" Her voice is kind and understanding; no one else has ever treated me this way.

                For this, I am grateful, but I soon acknowledge that I cannot perform in the state I'm in.

                                "Can I stay here?"

                                "You don't want to come see the performance?" A look of disappointment fills her eyes, and I feel a stab of guilt in my gut.

                                "It's not you. It's just. . .I can't. . ." I trail off, unable to express all of the pent up emotions that are contained in my five foot, six inched body.

                Her eyes linger on my cheek for a moment, making me wonder if Carlotta has left a mark there, before she kisses it one more time and leaves me alone.

                My eyes scan the room, and since I don't feel like I'm being watched anymore, I decide to partake in one of my favorite activities: singing. Singing has always been a way to help me declare all of my raging emotions.

                I remember the aria I heard Christine sing today, and figure that I'll try and sing as much as I can recall and just repeat the parts that I know to get out all of my negativity.

                                _"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. . ."_ Notes high and sweet echo throughout the room, and I'm only able to recall about one more verse before I just begin repeating what I've sung.

                Music takes over then, and I'm lost in the sentiments of a young woman, desperately wishing that her beloved companion from youth will think of her and that they will meet once again. I can feel the overwhelming power of love in the song, the bittersweet memories of the two once spending all of their time together before they are parted for an undetermined amount of time.

And then the magic ends as I no longer feel the urge to sing, and I sigh.

                Only allowing one tear to paint my cheek, I step over to the mirror to see what damage has been done to my face. There is a small welt in the shape of a hand, but overall I don't think anyone will notice it. Since I don't have to go to the performance, I'm hoping that no one will notice my injury when they return.

                With gentle footsteps I make my way over to the humongous bed and burrow under the covers, away from the light, and away from the world. The pillows were softer than I could have thought possible, and it wasn't long before I found myself in my nightmare again.

                **_Knock, knock, knock!_**

                I don't respond to the incessant knocking at the door, but it turns out I don't have to, because Madame Giry pushes herself and Christine in the room without waiting for a response.

                                "No!" Madame Giry shouts to the people in the hall, pressing them all back, before closing the door securely behind them. "You did very well, my dear." She gives Christine a proud smile, before handing her a rose. "He is very pleased with you."

                With that, Madame Giry walks out.

                                "Who is 'he', Christine?" My groggy voice inquires.

                                "Oh, well, um, I don't think you'd understand." She chuckles nervously, looking at the rose with adoration in her eyes.

                I simply wait for her to give me a solid answer, knowing that if I'm quiet for long enough she'll tell me.

                                "Well, okay, I'll tell you. When my father died, he said he would send me an angel. The Angel of Music. Since he died, I _have_ been visited by an angel of music. He sings songs in my head, and teaches me how to sing."

                I nod understanding.

                The idea of this, "Angel of Music" also got me thinking about something else that had been rumored around the opera house since I had walked in this morning.

                                "Who's this Opera Ghost everyone talks about?" I question.

                                "There seem to be rumors that there is a ghost, and he sends notes to the managers. He informs them of how his opera is to be run, and such."

                I try to soak this information in. It's confusing, but I decide that it's late and I always have time to ask more questions later.

                Another knock sounds at the door, abruptly.

                                "Come in." Christine says.

                A man with light brown hair to his shoulders steps in with a broad smile on his face as he comes closer to Christine and me. He only seems to have eyes for Christine, though, seeing that his eyes lock with hers instantaneously.

                                "Little Lotte, let her mind wander." He doesn't even seem to notice me. "Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or shoes?'" He sounds like he's teasing.

                                "Raoul." Christine giggles.

                                “‘or of riddles or frocks?'"

                                "Those picnics in the attic." I don't understand what any of this means, and can only assume this is an inside joke they share with each other.

                                "As we read to each other," Raoul kneels down beside Christine. "Dark stories of the North."

                                "No. 'What I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed.'" Christine begins to sing softly. " _And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head."_

Raoul seems overwhelmed with emotion and lets out a deep sigh as he hugs Christine tightly, before pulling back and looking intently at her.

                                "Let me take you to supper."

                                "No, Raoul. The Angel of Music is very strict."

                Raoul only chuckles, makes a joke about it, and states that he will be picking her up later. He leaves without acknowledging me or speaking to me.

                                "What was that all about?" I ask, kind of upset that he seemed to be completely oblivious to my presence.

                Am I really that dull, that I'm not even interesting enough to be spoken to?

                                "Have you never heard of the story of Little Lotte?"

                                "No." My parents had never bothered to tell me any bedtime story for that matter.

                                "I'll have to tell you sometime. However, I think it's time to go to bed right now."

                I internally groan at that, knowing that my nap during the performance has resulted in my not wanting to go to sleep. Christine seems to realize that I'm not quite as tired as she is, so she is the first to head to the bathroom and get ready for bed.

                As she comes out with her nightgown on, tying up the top two strings on it, all of the candles flicker and get snuffed out. I'm not even close enough for my breathing to have caused **one** candle to go out. . .let alone all of them, and there's no one else in the room to have messed with them.

                Darkness cloaks the two of us, and fear drains the color from my face. In the moonlight coming through the window, I can see that Christine appears afraid as well, and I feel her tug on my arm to pull me towards the door; our escape is swiftly cut off by a voice singing.

                                _"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion. Basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!"_

My heart swells at the sound of this deep, masculine voice, and feel my lungs take in air as if I am about to sing. I bring my hands up to my mouth so I won't make a fool of myself, but Christine has no shame, and responds to the mystery voice.

                                _"Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me. Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, master!"_

_"Flattering child you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror. I am there inside!"_

Seeing that she's singing to an "angel," I use my reasoning to infer that this voice belongs to her Angel of Music. Who that is, I'm uncertain. Curiosity and awe makes my heart beat faster as my eyes land upon the mirror and I see _him_. He is clothed in all black, with a black cape trailing behind him, and a white mask is covering the right side of his face.

                Christine soon lets go of my hand, and from the look in her eyes I can see that she's in a trance. Her eyes are staring intently upon the man, and she takes slow, measured steps toward him in the mirror. Just when I'm certain that she's going to plow straight into the mirror, she appears to walk straight through it.

                And then she's gone.


	4. I Get Caught In A Bit Of A Pickle. . .Well, Noose

                I gasp, my hands still covering my mouth, before I finally let my hands fall limp at my sides. Standing there for about five minutes, mouth agape, I'm not certain of what I'm supposed to do.

                Then, I come back to my senses and realize I must go after her. Trotting over to the mirror, I search for a moment to see how she got through. After all, people don't just walk through mirrors! Finally, I encounter a tiny crack on the side, and open it with a little elbow grease.

                I make sure to close it behind me, not wanting anyone to come into our room and seeing the mirror opened. Although they'll freak out when we're missing, it would be worse to lead them to this man who is apparently Christine's angel.

                Walking down the tunnel inside the mirror, I realize there are several different paths that I can take. My heart is pounding in my throat, so I try my best to listen out for the sound of Christine's voice, and look down on the stone path to see splashes of water in the shape of footprints. They are faint, and it takes decades to finally follow them to the right place, but I know it's the right place when I see a giant lake in front of my leading to a cave-like structure with candles. There is a cage door hovering above the entrance of the cave, and it's open, so I can only assume that Christine's angel has taken her in there.

                I notice it's a long distance to walk in the water and make it to the entrance, but I'm willing to do so in order to find Christine and take her back. I know nothing about her angel, and honestly don't know if he's truly her angel! So, it's vital that I find her and bring her back to our room.

                Trudging my way through the horrifying gunk that is the sewer water, I try to remain calm as I make my way to the cave. When I arrive there, I notice there's a small alcove right outside the entrance. I hide in there and peek out for a few moments to take in my surroundings.

                An organ is backed up against the farthest cave wall, and sheet music is littered all over the ground. Seeing that I've been focused on finding Christine, I finally notice that the man is singing softly to her as he carries her somewhere behind a black curtain. His voice is overwhelmingly powerful, while at the same time holding a sense of gentleness.

                It's a wonderfully unique paradox.

                When the man begins to walk back to the center near the organ, his head begins to turn towards me, and I rapidly pull back into my hiding spot, lungs expanding and shrinking abruptly.

                Has he seen me?

                I wait for a brief moment, barely breathing so that I don't alert him to my presence. After feeling better about the situation, I lean around the side and peer into the entrance once more, and find that the man is not standing there anymore. In fact, I don't see him anywhere. My feet begin to inch in the direction in which Christine was taken, but abruptly feel an object tighten around my neck.

                As it continues to grow tighter and I feel another body close behind me, my instincts tell me that it is a noose that is around my neck.

                                "And what do you think you're doing down here?" A dark, deep voice whispers in my ear, deathly close to me.

                I can only swallow in response as a strange feeling engulfs me, and I assume it's my fight-or-flight response trying to urge me to escape. My lack of response results in the noose getting squeezing my windpipe and black dots to appear in my vision.

                                "What do you think you're doing here?" The voice is harsher, closer this time.

                                "I was only following Christine." I choke out.

                Death seems imminent as the black dots begin to block out most of my vision, and I can feel my head growing lighter as my lack of oxygen keeps me from thinking clearly.

                                "I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you think."  
                The noose is gone within seconds, and I pant, falling to my hands and knees as I try to force large doses of air back into my lungs. A splitting headache is the effect of my near-death encounter, but it's worth the pain to have the relief of being able to breathe and know I'm alive.

                                "You are a fool if you think you will be able to leave, though." He adds.

                My head snaps up in complete shock, as my brain tries to process what's just been said. Am I hearing correctly? Or have I already passed out and this is all a hallucination? 

                                "Wait, what?"

                                "You'll have to stay here. You can't go blabbering to everyone else about this place."  
                He takes my hand firmly, before leading me into his lair. My eyes continue to go back and forth between his organ and the pieces of scattered sheet music on the ground, as I try and persuade him to let me go back.

                                "Monsieur, I would really like to go home. I've no intention of telling anyone about this place, but can't you please return me? I just got here." I beg.

                Although his icy blue eyes are physically light in color, they contain a pallet of darkness within them that tell me he's lived a harsh, neglected life. The darkness that resonates from him appears to be directed at me, and it's clear that he intends to frighten me, but I can't seem to be scared.

                                "Aren't you afraid?" His voice sounds indifferent, but something tells me that my lack of fear startles him.

                                "Why should I be?"

                He seems surprised by my answer, but the only way I can assume this is because he doesn't say anything. I wait for a retort, but he merely sits down on his organ stool and begins to play. Notes of grandeur sweep around me and envelop me in their enriching sound. I find myself unintentionally humming along quietly, closing my eyes for a moment before opening them to watch how his hands glide gracefully across the ivory keys.

                And then the music stops, and those sorrowful blue eyes are locked onto mine once more.

                                "What is your name, child?"

                                "Shadow."

                He finds this amusing.

                                "Your name is Shadow?"

                                "Yes."  
                He ponders this for a while, before letting a smile, though small, form.

                He wouldn't be the first one to think my name is unusual.

                                "I suppose since you're now going to be staying here, you can help me with all of my tasks around the opera. Since you will be helping, should I ever need you, I will write a note to the managers calling you The Phantom's Shadow. You can be my assistant." He continues playing the organ as though his song was never interrupted.

                The Phantom's Shadow? It wasn't a bad name. But why did I even need a different name?

                                "So, does that mean your name is Phantom?"

                                "No." He answers simply, before his eyes seem to alight on me for a moment longer than normal; he immediately ceases playing. "Dear, Shadow, what's happened to you?"

                My mind is full of bewilderment at his inquiry, but I immediately know what he's talking about when he lightly touches my cheek. Heart racing, I worry that if he can see it in this dark place, I know the others will see it.

                **If** I am ever to see them again.

                 I feel as though I am reliving the whole incident with Carlotta as his eyes continue to gaze at me with question about my welted cheek. Tears threaten to cascade before I turn away and decide to evade him, having not known him but for a few minutes.

                                "Nothing."

                                "If it was nothing, there wouldn't be anything there." He counters.

                I wonder if I should be truthful with him, and then decide that there's no harm in telling him since he's most likely the only one that stays down here, and likely doesn't come into contact with any other person in the Populaire.

                                "La Carlotta. . .she. . ." I lose my voice, unable to say anything further.

                I still can't seem to comprehend the fact that someone has gotten angry with me to the point of physical abuse. Especially abuse destructive enough to leave a mark.

                A storm brews in those dark eyes once he hears the beginning of my story.

                                "What did she do?"

                                "She slapped me." I manage to mutter.

                A long silence passes between us as he takes this information in, and during this pause I recall that he is an attempted murderer, though I probably deserved it for invading his territory. I try to pull back some of the spine-tingling terror that I felt when that noose enclosed itself around my neck, but I couldn't seem to make it happen.

                How can you fear a person who appears to have never been taught any better?

                                "That toad never should have slapped your unmarred cheek, Little Shadow." His voice doesn't contain the slightest sympathy, but his next statement lets me know he is sincere. "I hope they heal soon."

                A ruffling of sheets is detected in my eardrums, followed by a familiar form in my peripheral vision. I look to see that Christine is now awake, and once she registers that I am present with her and this. . .phantom, her eyes grow wide.        

                With lithe, graceful steps, she makes her way over to the Phantom with curiosity spilling over out of her light brown eyes. As she gently moves her hand to caress his face, his eyes close. I haven't been able to hear any ounce of emotion in his voice or see any sort of sentiment in his eyes, but his eyes closing show more emotion than his voice or eyes could ever say.

                He is. . .enamored with Christine!

                This intimate moment between the two of them is shattered when Christine's curiosity suddenly gets the better of her, and she removes his mask. In all of two seconds, the Phantom is off of his organ bench and covering his face.

                He curses at her, his face contorted with grief and betrayal.

                                "You little viper! Is this what you wanted to see?!" He screams.

                I refuse to look at his face the moment I realize he's trying to hide it, because I would not like to make him feel uncomfortable. It's obvious that some sort of deformity has made him feel like he doesn't belong to the world, and I do not wish to make him feel any worse about it.

                Once he has calmed down, I turn around to see that the Phantom is no longer facing Christine and I, and when he faces us again, he has somehow retrieved his mask and it is back in place.

                                "Come, we must return." He swallows and looks at me when he says this. "Those fools who run my theater will be missing you."

                He gingerly leads Christine and me to a boat, and as he does so, I can feel my drowsy state beginning to return to me. I'm sure he notices as I stumble several times as I try to board the boat.

                Before we make it to the room, I'm fast asleep.


	5. A Shadow Becomes A Star

_When I wake up, I'm in his arms. His black cloak, silky and warm, is wrapped securely around me as I lay against his chest, and his heartbeat sounds strongly in my ears. It takes me a few moments to realize that I'm not with Christine any longer, and I have no idea why I'm here right now._

_Am I dreaming?_

_I take a moment and realize that he's looking off in the direction of the entrance of the cave, appearing lost in his thoughts. I decide to use this moment to actually analyze him._

_His eyes, though an icy blue, hold a darkness that makes his emotions almost impossible to read. Black hair is slicked back smoothly and out of his face, contrasting beautifully with those eyes._

_"Awake?" He turns to me as if he knows I've been observing him, so I look towards the entrance of the cave and act as though I haven't been staring._

_He strokes my hair once, probably trying to see if I'm listening to him or not, before he quickly retracts his hand - almost as if he's been stung._

_"Yes." I finally respond after a moment's pause. "Did you not return me, with Christine?"_

_"I told you, you must stay down here. You must stay with me."_

                                                                -------------------------------------------------

                My mind is in a haze as gentle nudges try to coax me out of my slumber. What could the Phantom possible want from me now?

                With a groan, I sit up and face the side the nudging is coming from, trying for an annoyed look. It fails, however, and rapidly shifts into an expression of shock as I realize I'm in the bed in the room Christine and I share; every one of the ballet girls are all gathered around me with Christine and her friend Meg, and they're all gazing upon me with interest and fright.

                So. . .had it really been a dream that the Phantom had kept me in his lair? Or had all of last night been a dream and I really just slept through Christine's return from the performance?

                I'm unable to answer that question at the current moment, due to the cacophony of voices shouting at me to get up.

                                "Shadow! Shadow! Are you okay?" They're all demanding. "You've been asleep for hours! Come on, we have rehearsal."

                Trying to concede with their wishes, I hastily get out of bed before feeling a wave of dizziness overtake me, making me comprehend that I've gotten up too fast.

                Several girls gasp and rush to my aid so I don't make contact with the floor.

                                "Are you okay, Shadow?"

                Too befuddled to respond, I keep my mouth closed and don't answer. Since my head is overflowing with questions, unsurprisingly a headache accompanies that.

                Whispers ensue as Christine slowly makes her way over to us, her face contorted into an expression of utter concern.

                                "Shadow, please answer us."

                I look at her sincerely, wanting to confide in her about everything while also knowing that I can't because of all the people around us.

                So, I settle for speaking about what I can.           

                                "My head hurts." I whimper, wincing as a stab of pain hits me.

                One of the girls is keenly observing me as I say this, and moments after I finish my explanation she takes in a deep breath in astonishment.

                                "Shadow! What happened to you?!" She runs over, touching my cheek.

                Is the mark still there?!

                                "Oh, yeah. Well, see, that was from--"  
                                "Carlotta got angry at her yesterday, and came in and slapped her."  
                Everything grows deathly silent.

                And then, Messieurs Firmin and Andre come in.

                                "Ah, here they--goodness! Shadow, dear, what happened to your cheek?"

                                "Carlotta." Meg deadpans.

                Firmin and Andre exchange glances.

                                "I'm sorry, Shadow. You don't look like you feel well. Are you okay?"

                Okay? Ha. At this point, I'm certain that being "okay" will be a rare luxury for me.

                                "I think she should relax for today." Madame Giry suggests, a knowledgeable light in her eyes.

                Although I've already gotten used to Madame Giry as strict and unrelenting with practices - which makes this suggestion completely out of place - I don't question her decision. My mind is already so full of questions that I can't seem to find room for anymore.

                Out of nowhere, a feeling deep within my soul prompts me to sing. It's the same feeling I had when Christine and I first heard the Phantom singing his melodious song last night. I try to keep it held in once again, but even though I succeed, there is an air of disappointment that surrounds me.

                                _Sing, Shadow, and you too, can become a star._ He whispers, seemingly from directly behind me.

                The Phantom. He's prompting me to sing by some. . .some type of unknown power! It's like with some unknown force of his, he is urging my body to take over for me since my mind refuses to.

                My song begins in tones low and dramatic, making a few people stop talking and eye me with curiosity. They seem to wonder why I'm having this strange outburst of song. As my voice rises in pitch and volume, I soon have everyone's attention, and by the end of the tune, I don't even feel like **I'm** the one singing anymore.

                And once I'm done, with everyone's eyes on me, I blush fiercely with embarrassment while looking down at my feet - my feet which are currently refusing to move.

                Way to go, Shadow.


	6. A Heart-Stopping Show

                                "I'm sorry." I quickly amend, breaking the silence. "I know I'm not that good. I don't know what came over me. I just couldn't help--"

                                "Not that good?! It's marvelous! Splendid! Just. . .absolutely excellent! She's another Daae!" Monsieur Andre exclaims, his face beaming with pride.

                My face flushes at the compliment. Sarra was always the one to assure me that I could sing circles around anyone at the Populaire, but now that everyone seems to be so shaken up by Christine and me, I have to say that I'm beginning to feel more confident in my singing abilities.

                Christine makes her way over to me with a smile so bright that I think the sun would be jealous, before enveloping me in a tender hug.

                                "You've done terrific! Now I see why Madame Deferee was bragging about you so much."

                Madame Deferee. . .was **bragging** , about me? I wish I'd been notified of this sooner. Compliments to make me feel better about myself, sure. Yet, Madame Deferee actually taking time out of her day to boast about me? Strange.

                A rush of blood to my head reminds me that I'm still dizzy and disoriented, and once I sway back onto the bed, that's everyone's cue to leave me in the room for the day and allow me to recuperate.

                I yearn to see the Phantom again and get all of my questions answered! I can't spend so much time not knowing so many things. Why did he bring me back? Surely there had to have been some major event that made him change his mind when he was so set on keeping me as his prisoner. I want to ask him if being with him as he explained to me that I would never be coming back was a dream or if he just changed his mind.

                My mind won't let me go on any longer not knowing, and my eyes wander over to the mirror in the room.

                The same mirror that would allow me to travel back to his layer.

                Surely he's watching me now, right? After all, moments ago he was whispering to me and prompting me to sing.

                He has to be here.

                                _"Wandering Angel, please, please help me. Was it a dream or myth? Why did you bring me back, with Christine? Why did you not, keep me?"_

I'd be lying to say I actually expected a response from him, but within seconds, I'm overcome with surprise as he sings back to me.

                                _"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. Why do you ask questions? I brought you back, so you'd be happy. Surely you feel accepted?"_ His voice booms back.

                                "Angel, you don't understand. Life seems to be dealing all the wrong cards. No one sees my worth, except perhaps Christine and Sarra. The only reason the others even notice me is because of my voice. Angel, life doesn't want me here. Why?" This truth that I've been carrying deep within me spills out to this man I've only known for a few hours, and hot tears fall down my cheeks as I admit this.

                "Helpless child, life still wants you. It loves and embraces you warmly, surely it embraces you much more kindly than it ever did me. But always remember, if you should ever wish for comfort, listen for music of the night." Though I still don't see him, his breath is on my neck and sends chills down my spine.

My mind runs in circles once again with confusion. The music of the night? What is that? Is it some sort of music only played or sung at night that I can hear whenever I need it?

                Harsh heels stabbing the ground ring outside my doorway before Carlotta abruptly appears in my room, uninvited, and I flinch away from her.

                                "AGAIN! AGAIN, CHILD! WHY!? WHY ARE YOU AGAINST ME?!"

                                "Signora, I'm not against you." I allow a few tears to fall, uncertain of what I've done aside from singing that would make her so outraged at me.

                                "WHY DID YOU SEND ME THIS LETTER?!" She shoves a letter and envelope in my face, an accusatory look in her narrowed eyes.

                The envelope has a wax seal, and when I put both halves of the seal together, I notice that is forms a skull.

                A sense of foreboding overtakes me as I look at the letter, which reads:

                                **Greetings,**

 **Why do you return to the Populaire? Your days here are numbered. It's only a matter of time before a shadow will take your place. It will be the Phantom's Shadow.**  
  My eyes read, comprehending but dumbfounded. Phantom's Shadow? The Phantom gave me that name when I first met him, but doesn't he realize I'll be accused of this?

                Ha. . .as if he would even care if I **did** get accused of it.

                                "Who wrote this, Signora?"

                                "AS IF YOU DON'T KNOW, YOU LITTLE BRAT!"

                                "What are you talking about? I didn't write this!"

                                "YOU WERE MENTIONED IN THE LETTER! A SHADOW WILL TAKE MY PLACE. . .SHADOW!" She fumes, her eyes blazing.

                                "But I really didn't write it." I breathe, tears streaming down my face.

                I've never enjoyed getting yelled at; after all, who does? However, Carlotta's rampage affects me even more, merely because she slapped me yesterday, and the knowledge that she has the capability to lose her temper and physically abuse people frightens me.

                Her eyes soften, showing an emotion I've never seen in her: compassion. She stands there for a moment, before walking out of my room and not uttering another word to me. The door closes softly behind her.

                                "Shadow." A voice beckons.

                This voice is all-too-familiar, but hearing it still gives me the shivers.

                My eyes scan the room for him, as I desperately try to believe that he's here to take care of me and all of my troubles, but I can't seem to make myself care if he's here right now. He's made me a prime suspect to Carlotta, and he's probably framed others too.

                Most likely on purpose.

                I take a deep, shaky breath and sigh. _Why does the world have to be so cruel? What have I done to deserve this type of hate and betrayal?_ I allow a small smile to grace my lips as I think of Christine and Meg. _They're nice enough, but they're hardly ever around because Christine is the big star, and Meg never gets any dancing parts with me._

                I hastily wipe away my tears the second I hear a knock on the door.

                                "Come in!" I respond, hoping my voice doesn't betray my emotions.

                Plastering on a fake smile, I hope to make Christine think everything is fine with me. I would hate to bother her with all of my pointless drama.

                To Christine's credit, she's an expert at sensing when something's wrong.

                                "Shadow, what's wrong? Did something happen?" She immediately asks upon seeing me.

                                "Carlotta came in here again." I begin, watching as her eyes widen. "She yelled at me, saying that I wrote a letter to her because it mentioned something about how a shadow would take her place and she assumed it was me."  
                                "Did she hurt you?" Christine immediately inquires.

                                "No, Mademoiselle. Not this time."

                The moment Christine opens her arms to embrace me, I leap into them and squeeze her in a bear hug, sniffling slightly. Tears begin building up in my eyes, but I refuse to let a single one fall. I won't let Carlotta get to me. I can't give her that satisfaction.

                                "Everyone got letters, Shadow. It wasn't just Carlotta. The letters are telling the managers to put you and me in the top roles of _Il Muto_. That's probably why Carlotta is upset."

                                "Wait, he wants you and me as the stars? Why?"

                                "I'm not sure, Shadow. But the managers are ignoring the commands to please Carlotta."

                I ponder this for a moment. At least if Carlotta is playing the big role, that means she'll be doing all of the singing, and will leave Christine and I as silent pageboys. I don't feel like singing today anyway. Everyone is already set against me because they think I'm in cohorts with the Phantom.

                So, for the next two months, the Opera Populaire gets set for _Il Muto_.

. . . . .

                The first day of the show, the moment the curtains open, everything goes perfectly.

Well. . .almost.

                                "DID I NOT INSTRUCT,” His voice permeates through the opera house. “THAT BOX FIVE WAS TO BE KEPT EMPTY?"

                                "He's here, the Phantom of the Opera." Meg whispers to Christine.  

                Though hearing his voice should be my cue that he is not happy that the managers did not follow his instructions, I don’t really take it into account. My mind is elsewhere as the actors and actresses take a brief pause to pull themselves back together, and I figure everything will run smoothly again once we start the opera once more.

                But my first indication that things will not be ending well, is when Carlotta loses her voice.

                                _"Poor fool, he makes me laugh._ _Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha--CROAK."_ My head whips up the moment she croaks, my stomach beginning to turn with an eerie feeling.

                Everyone in the audience, however, finds this exceedingly humorous and they all laugh in one accord, pointing fingers and mocking her. Carlotta herself is in hysterics, but as much as I’d like to feel sorry for her, I can’t.

                She’s rapidly pulled off stage, before the managers came up and announce that the performance will continue, but Christine will be playing the role of the Countess. Since Christine has to go get dressed for her new role, the ballet from Act 3 will be going on while the change is being instated.

                No one had been expecting such a drastic transition from the first act to the third, so everyone is in a rush to get in costume for the ballet. Once everyone is finally ready and dancing out on stage, the tension from earlier begins to lighten.

                It’s difficult to describe what happens next.

                One moment, I’m watching a group of people dancing and in the next second it takes me to blink, a body falls in front of the dancing women, suspended in the air by a rope.

I can't think straight. Am I seeing correctly?

Within moments, everything goes dark, and I see nothing at all.


	7. A Curse For Love's Duet

                                " **No! Shadow! Wake up!** " Christine’s voice is soft at first, but as my brain begins to entire the conscious realm once more, her voice is amplified.

                The moment I am finally capable of moving, I immediately fall back to the ground, disoriented. I can’t seem to grasp what’s real around me, everything feels lucid.

                                "Come on!" She yells at me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me up to the roof.

                Raoul is attached at her hip, trying to persuade her that the Phantom is a myth. He believes none of it is real and that it’s all been conjured up in her imagination. Christine and I, however, know the truth and she tries to convince him as I’m pulled along.

                Once we made it to the roof, Christine finally let go of my arm and walked around with Raoul, as they continued back and forth with their talk of the Opera Ghost.

                                “ _Raoul, I’ve seen him! Can I ever forget that sight,_ ” are the only words that swim into my ears, before I block everything out because of the bitter cold.

                I wish they’d have thought to bring me a blanket or cloak.

                Within moments, Raoul begins to serenade Christine with a gentle, loving duet. They are each confessing how they feel about each other as I move around a bit to keep from freezing. As I listen to the couple entwined in love’s duet, I remember when I was down underground with the Phantom and Christine. I recollected the moment of vulnerability that had overtaken him as she caressed his cheek.

                The Phantom loved Christine with everything that he was. . .and it broke my heart to see that the feelings were obviously not reciprocated. Yet, a kindling flame of jealousy begins to spark at the idea that the Phantom is obsessed with Christine.

                                "No, Shadow! That's insane!" I immediately think to myself. "Why would you feel jealous!? He loves her and that should be a good thing! He definitely deserves her! He’s so musically talented and brilliant; you should be happy for her!”

                Before I can take more time to reflect on my conflicted emotions, I hear a voice.

                _His_ voice.

                                "Christine." When he whispers his voice sounds close, and I grow curious as to where he could possibly be hiding.

                As Raoul and Christine continue wooing each other through song, I tip-toe around the roof, eagerly searching for the man clad in mask and cape. My tender heart begins to crack as when I turn and see Raoul passionately kissing Christine. Tears develop in my eyes as I think of how the Phantom will react upon seeing this.

                He’ll be crushed.

                My body begins to tremble from the snowy temperature as my sympathy tears make their trek down my cheeks, and I turn my gaze to my feet as I shuffle along the roof.

                Abruptly, a hand snatches my wrist and I’m pulled behind a statue, unable to be see Christine and Raoul anymore.

                                "What are you doing here?!" His voice was angry and harsh.

Those icy blue eyes were the same: darkness and anger burning throughout.

                                "Christine dragged me up here." I exhale, looking at the ground in an attempt to hide my tears.

                Surely he’ll find it ridiculous that I am crying for him. Or maybe worse, he’ll be offended that I am sympathetic for him and will grow more irate than he already appears.

                Despite my futile attempts to hide my face, a tender, gloved hand is soon under my chin, making me look up into his eyes. His thumb gently strokes away the tear that has escaped onto my cheek. Almost as though watching a fire get extinguished, I watch as his eyes soften considerably when he looks at me.

                                "What's wrong, Shadow?" This time his voice is gentle and concerned.

                 My body trembles at the sound of my name coming from his lips, but I shake all of my rogue emotions out of the way and turn. My legs try to make a run for it, but I’ve barely anything to keep me warm so they barely take one step before he has my wrist in his grasp once more.

He tenderly pivots me around to face him once more.

 "What's wrong?"

                                "Nothing." I reply coldly, before immediately regretting my snappy attitude, hoping I haven’t made him feel bad or hurt his feelings.

                Internally, I laughed at the idea that I might possibly be able to arouse any sort of pained emotion from the Phantom. Though I know he has them somewhere, I doubt that a young girl like myself can break through his thick skin.

                                "Please don't try and make me think otherwise. I can read your eyes, Shadow. What's wrong?" Almost as soon as he raises the question, Raoul and Christine have reached the loudest notes in their love song.

 " _Anywhere you go let me go too! Love me, that's all I ask of you."_ Reluctantly, I gaze up at the Phantom to see how he reacts.

I’m not surprised to see the clear look of agony in his eyes, but with the pain the fiery rage from earlier returns to his expression. I finally allow my tears to travel freely as my eyes follow his defeated footsteps in the snow.

He slowly, unwillingly bends low to gather up the rose he bestowed to Christine.

                                _"I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me. He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing. Christine. . ."_ Though his back is facing me, I can hear the crack in his voice as he stops singing. I observe the trembling of his shoulders, and it insights a few silent sobs to escape my throat.

As he has his moment of grief, I can’t rein in my emotions, and I fall to my knees in the snow and allow the sobs to unleash. The idea that one person has endured a life alone and has to suffer through heartbreak, while I stand by helplessly not knowing what to do, is overwhelming.

                Raoul and Christine’s voices can be heard from inside the building, and it isn’t until I hear how far away they are that I realize they’ve left me alone outside in the cold. Yet, my only focus now is on the Phantom’s fist, crushing his precious rose.

                The blood-red petals stain the snow with their color, before the Phantom sprints across the snow and hoists himself up onto the statue he pulled me behind earlier.

                                " _YOU WILL CURSE THE DAY YOU DID NOT DO, ALL THAT THE PHANTOM ASKED OF YOU!"_ His vocal chords are strong despite the obvious strain on them from crying.

                My mind debates on whether or not I should try to catch up with Raoul and Christine, but my feet stay planted firmly on the ground as my eyes take in the Phantom’s descending figure.

                I am a few feet away from him when he makes it back to the surface of the roof and looks at me, his eyes lacking any mirth.

                                “Is that what you were crying about?” He inquires in a breath.

                My eyes fill once more as I look at the completely different man in front of me. His eyes no longer hold any luster, his shoulders are slumped in defeat, and his cheeks are stained with tears. I don’t comprehend that I’ve begun crying again until I feel his arms pulling me closer to him, and I bury my face in his chest as I try to get a grip on myself. Though it doesn’t appear that he is used to hugs – or physical contact in general – I decide that this is the closest I can get to helping him feel better. This thought allows me to calm down slightly.

                                “Child, there’s no need to worry about me.” He tries to reassure me.

                But the words only send me into a short bout of acrimony.

                Doesn’t he realize that I merely desire to see him happy?!

                                “Don’t tell me that!” I bellow, pulling back from his warm embrace.

                He flinches away for a moment, astonished at my abrupt shift in moods.

                                “I can read your eyes too, you know! I can see the heartbreak, the despair, the feeling of hopelessness. I’m not blind, I can see it!” Having gotten that much off my chest, I begin to mellow out, my nose now running. “But I don’t want to see it. I just want you to be happy. It truly hurts me to see you like—“ A gentle, lingering kiss on my forehead stops my train of thought.

                His eyes burn into mine as he seems to search for something inside mine.

                And then he disappears in the blink of an eye.

                As I try to recalculate my brain and figure out something more to say, his presence behind me suddenly sends an unexpected jolt of excitement down my spine.

                                “You need not worry about me, Little Phantom’s Shadow. You are perceptive and I understand that you can see all of my conflicted emotions. I am sorry that you feel pain when you see it. So, I leave you with this,” He pulls my body flush against his as he whispers, “When you rest your head on your pillow this night, allow your mind to wander. You may find yourself listening to the music of the night, and then you shall find peace.” There is a brief pause before he utters, “Sleep well tonight, dear Shadow. May your dreams be pleasant and pure.”

                I stand in the icy temperature until I can no longer feel his presence, before I acknowledge my racing heartbeat and incapability of breathing normally. Everything I’d just experienced would have sent other people running and screaming in a fit of madness.

                So, why did he have this effect on me?


	8. Dance With Death

                I shove that thought aside as I remember that Raoul and Christine are back inside the opera house, and that it would be a good idea to go find them once more. I haven’t taken two steps when Christine reappears at the door leading back into the Populaire, a coat in her arms.

                                “Oh, Shadow! I am so sorry, dear! I was afraid we’d left you outside! You must be freezing!” She coos, swiftly taking me into her embrace and wrapping me in the coat. She ushers me into the Populaire once more as she begins to tell me some exciting news. “There’s going to be a Masquerade Ball within the next three months, Shadow! You and I can go dress shopping together and find ourselves some lovely outfits. What do you think?”

                Though I’m still appalled from the events on the roof, I nod in agreement to her excitement for dress shopping. In fact, I start feeling bubbly myself; it will be a good idea to distract my mind from all the insanity with something normal like searching for a nice dress, even if the event is three months away.

                So, in light of the horrifying display today, I make a point to bury all of the terrible, depressing emotions inside of me, and look up at Christine with enthusiasm shining in my eyes.

                                “I think we’re wasting time. Let’s go dress shopping, Christine!”

                                “Oh, I knew you’d love it! But, surely we should wait a bit, don’t you think? The Ball isn’t going to be tomorrow, Shadow. It’s in three months!” She chuckles as she leads me inside the warm opera house.

                                “Christine,” I say firmly, before looking up at her with eyes that begged her not to ask why I needed this. “Please. I just want to feel like a normal girl for once. . .can’t we go dress shopping tomorrow?”

                After a few moments of deliberation, she smiles sadly at me, before nodding in consent.

. . . . .

                Within the span of three months, I found myself growing much more relaxed as the events from _Il Muto_ slowly died down. In fact, no one – not even I – had heard anything from the Opera Ghost within those three months before the Masquerade Ball.

                While others within the opera rejoiced about his disappearance, I wondered with curiosity and concern about whether or not he would ever return. I wondered if he was still alive on some occasions, and more than once I had attempted to communicate with him through the mirror.

                But there was no sign of him for three, solid months.

                By the time the day of the Ball arrived, Christine and I had already found our dresses and it was obvious that we both had different tastes in dress wear.

                Christine is draped in a beautiful, soft pink and white dress. The light colors suit her well, especially with her complexion. Her mask is simple and matching in color, though she doesn’t hold it up very often to cover her face. My style is a complete flip from hers. Contrasting her light, soft colors, I am adorned in a midnight black, bold dress. It is long and flowing with a red ribbon around my waist being the only splash of color. My mask does not need a small stick for me to hold it up to my face, for I got one that goes around the back of my head. It is black with just enough red glitter to make it stand out.

                In the middle of my red ribbon is a rose, my offering to the Phantom.

                                “Oh, Shadow, you look so beautiful.” Christine purrs in awe once more.

                She has been saying it ever since I first tried on the dress.

                                “I agree.” Raoul compliments as he walks up to Christine and I.

                                “It’s a shame that you and Shadow don’t know each other very well. I was hoping maybe you might know someone who could dance with her.” Christine pouts.

                                “I’m fine, Christine. I’ve never really been one for parties.” I admit. “Though, dressing up has always made me feel prettier, and a Masquerade is so mysterious.”

                                “See? She’s okay, Christine. I can assure you that she and I will have more time to get acquainted later, anyhow. Since she is your cousin and you’ve taken her in as your sister, she can live with us once we are married.” His smile is radiant as he proclaims this to her.

                Though I’ve known about this for the past few weeks, it still manages to break my heart once again for the Phantom. It is another reason why I’ve been trying to contact him, because I don’t want him to do anything rash once he finds out. As much as I wish Christine could love him just as much as he loves her, I know that she is deeply affectionate for Raoul.

                And I would never force anyone to love anybody they didn’t.

                Once the music begins, I realize just how awkward it is that I don’t have a dance partner. However, I’m not willing to dance with a complete stranger, so I settle for following Raoul and Christine around as they flow gracefully around the room.

                My heart flies into my throat when I feel a gloved hand take mine, and I turn around.

                                “I noticed that you don’t have a partner, Mademoiselle. Would you give me the honor of having this dance?” All I hear is his voice and I feel at ease.

                His mask covers his face from his hairline to his top lip, and it looks like a skull. His formal shirt, jacket, and pants are all red, and he wears black boots. With his costume he has a rapier at his side, though seeing it on him makes me wary that he plans to take another life tonight.

                Yet I can’t help but stare at him, awe-struck by his stunning appearance.

                Three months.

                                “O-Of course you can, Monsieur.” I stutter, unable to avert my gaze.

                A slight smirk makes a fleeting appearance on his lips, before he takes my hand and kisses it tenderly, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart races in response, before he pulls me into an easy step that I can keep up with and swings me lithely across the dance floor.

                                “You look breath-taking tonight, Mademoiselle.” He compliments, his voice sincere as he gazes at me from behind his mask.

                He is mere inches away from me as we twirl and dance around the room.

                                “Thank you very much, Monsieur.” I respond as heat rushes to my cheeks. “Y-You look quite dashing yourself.”

                                “You flatter me, Mademoiselle.” He purrs.

                                “I mean it.” I breathe, my heart dropping into my stomach as he twirls me and lifts me high into the air before swinging me back down.

                Once my feet hit the floor, his hand is on my waist again and his hands caress mine with the smooth leather of his gloves. My body trembles at the sheer gentleness he is using.

                                “Where have you been for the past three months?” I finally inquire after several moments of dancing contently with him.

                                “You shall learn of it later, dear Shadow.”

                                “But. . .I haven’t seen you or spoken with you in months! I want to know!”

                In an instant, he uses his strength to pull me up against him as he gazes at me with a plea in his eyes. His hand is at the small of my back, and I can’t remember how to take in air at this point.

                                “ _Trust me._ ” Two notes are all he sings, but I’ve heard that familiar melody before.

                                “Monsieur Phantom, I have missed you.” The words escape from my lips of their own accord, and the moment I say them I am shocked at myself.

                We have stopped dancing.

                                “I have missed you too, my dear Shadow.” He coos, caressing my cheek, before his eyes widen and he snatches his hand away; he turns away from me. “I have some business to attend to.”

                With those words, he abruptly walks away.

                My feet are glued to the same spot, as I try to recollect what has just happened. Everything feels lucid, as though I am merely dreaming and will wake up at any moment. Questions fire all around in my head, as well as a stream of foreign emotions, but one thought remains prevalent.

                I just danced with the Phantom of the Opera.

                A whimper escapes my lips as I yearn to be dancing with him once more.

                                _Oh, stop with those kinds of petty thoughts and find Christine and Raoul!_ My mind screams at me, before I shake my head to clear it and begin my search.

                My eyes finally spot Christine standing alone at the bottom of the stairs, though Raoul is nowhere to be seen. I make a quick sprint over to her.

                                “Christine—“ My cut myself off in bewilderment as the lights dim out and the music abruptly stops.

                All is deathly silent.

                I follow everyone’s gaze and look up at the top of the stairs.

                                “ _Why so silent good messieurs?_ ” He walks down the steps in a slow and dramatic fashion. “ _Did you think that I had you for good?_ ” His tone is challenging, and I can’t help but close my eyes for a moment listening to his soothing baritone. “ _Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera._ ” He holds up a book of sheet music. “ _Here I bring the finished score: Don Juan Triumphant!”_ He drops the packet and unsheathes his sword. “ _Fondest greetings to you all, a few instructions just before rehearsal starts. La Carlotta must be taught to act. Not her normal trick of strutting around the stage._ ” He stabs his sword into the feathers of Carlotta’s hat, frightening her.

                Her husband, Piangi, steps in front of her to protect her. Phantom stops him by putting pressure against his stomach with his rapier.

                                “ _And our Don Juan must lose some weight. It is not healthy for a man of Piangi’s age.”_ He then pulls the sword away, putting it in his hand. “ _And my managers must learn, that their place is in an **office**.” _ With one swift motion, he has his blade pointed at Monsieur Andre’s face. “ _Not the arts_.”

                There is a long moment of silence, before he returns his rapier to its rightful place and turns to face Christine and me.

                                “ _As for our stars, Miss Christine Daae,” His voice is a whisper as he looks at her, and then turns to me. “And our little Phantom’s Shadow.”_ Everyone including myself lets out a gasp.

I’ve no doubt that everyone believes I’m a part of the Phantom’s plan and that I’ve been helping him this whole time. Though it’s true I know him – and consider him my friend – I have had no part in helping him with his little charades.

                I don’t move my head, hoping my mask keeps my identity concealed enough that I can at least hide from everyone for the night. Though it’s likely they still know who I am, I focus my attention back on the Phantom, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes.

                                “ _No doubt they’ll do their best, it’s true. Their voices are good, they know. Though should they wish to excel, they have much still to learn. If pride would let them return to me, their teacher._ ” Whoa, what? **My** teacher? I know he teaches Christine, but me? “ _Their teacher_.”

                Once again, not a word is spoken, but my heart trembles as I see the Phantom gazing softly at me with such intensity that I wonder what he’s thinking. He has no eyes for anyone else, but he gingerly steps down in front of me, before brushing a strand of hair from my face. He tilts my chin up for a brief moment, and placing one of his hands in mine, he mouths the words, “I’m sorry,” and places something in my hands.

                He knows that everyone thinks I’m helping him. . .and he’s sorry about it.

                Abruptly, his gaze shifts to Christine; she looks at him with eyes of awe and bewildered fright. Though, if she should have learned anything about him by now, she should know that he would never desire any injury on her part. Then his eyes look a little lower to the ring on her necklace.

                                _Oh no._

                                “ _You’re chains are still mine_!” He bellows, breaking the chain of the necklace and taking it for himself. “You belong to me!” His voice is desperate but covered with anger.

                In a flash of red, he swirls a red cape around himself, before a brief frenzy of flames appears around him, and in a puff of smoke he descends into a hole that appears in the floor. Something deep inside me begs my feet to move and follow him, but I know that will only cause more suspicions, and Raoul has already jumped in and the hole has closed up once more.

                A crowd begins to form around Christine and me. Most of them are all yelling about how I’ve betrayed the Populaire, while others are trying to make sure Christine is okay.

                I don’t like all of the attention, personally.

                                “Why did he give you the rose?” Someone questions, making me look at my hands.

                I’ve been so caught up in the ruckus that I hadn’t even thought to see what he’d given me.

                A single rose.

                                “I-I don’t know.” I answer truthfully, staring at the rose with confusion.

                Is this merely a gift in hopes that I’ll accept his apology? Or. . .or is it something else? Am I supposed to give it to Christine for him?

                                “Shadow! How could you?! You’ve betrayed us all!” My thoughts are interrupted by Messieurs Firmin and Andre.

                                “What?!” I exclaim, shocked that they believe it. “I’ve never helped him with anything!” I defend, my eyes filling with tears.

                                “Lies! He said it himself, ‘The Phantom’s **Shadow**!’” They shout in denial.

                I flinch back as though I’ve been slapped. How can they not believe me?! They never even thought that the Opera Ghost was real in the first place, and just because he shows up accusing me of things, they decide that it must be true.

                                “You’re a filthy, orphan liar, and I demand to know why you’re so insistent on ruining this business!” Firmin huffs, glaring at me with disdain.

                                “I’VE DONE NOTHING!” I wail, the tears overflowing. “You never believed in the Opera Ghost in the first place! And now just because he’s proven himself real, you think that everything he says is true! Well, it’s not!”

                Furious and hurt, I don’t wait for their response and squeeze my way through the crowd, running for my shared room to get away from the accusations. My mind is racing with foul words and the bitter anguish that can only come with betrayal. The fact that they didn’t believe me gives me half a mind to just quit it here altogether.

                **_Thump!_**

                                “Ugh!” Are the only words that escape my mouth.

                I’m sprawled across the floor when I raise my head; my main concern at the moment is the rose I’ve just dropped in my clumsy fall. However, just as I reach for it, a foot clad in heels crushes the beautiful flower into pieces.

                My heart sinks.

                                “Oops.” The voice of La Carlotta mocks me, and I look up to see her eyes filled with relish.

                                “You’ve no way of earning my sympathy anymore!” She hisses as she pushes me violently in the shoulder with her heeled shoe. “I knew it was you! The Opera Ghost himself demonstrated it! You’re a filthy liar!” With these words, she storms off.

                My mind is roiling and I sob at the hopelessness of everything I’m feeling. I turn back to my rose, my only source of comfort. . .shattered. Though I should hate the Phantom for putting this all on me, I can only pick up the petals of his well-meaning gift and hold them close to my heart.

                I curl into a ball in the floor, not bothering to care who finds me here. Though I want to be strong and muster up every ounce of bravery and compassion inside my body, I can only weep into the petals in my fingers.

                                “I forgive you.” I whimper, closing my eyes and letting my tears escape.


	9. I Weep Over A Ghost

                My head is pounding as I open my eyes. They feel swollen and heavy, and I groan at the throbbing in my brain, trying to think back to what got me into this position. Sitting up, I find out that I’m in bed; I begin to wonder if it’s all been a dream.

                Yet, when I start looking around the room, my eyes land on a clump of wrinkled, wilting petals that have been gathered and placed on the vanity adjacent to my bed.

                A smile plays at my lips as I think about the dance last night. It was the most fun I’d had in a very long time, and I would have to thank the Phantom if I ever came in contact with him soon. He had looked so handsome in his formal, red attire, and I can’t forget his shimmering blue eyes behind that mask.

                So determined.

                                _Could it be that I’ve. . ._ My mind wanders, before I realize what I’m thinking and I scold myself. _No. . .no, I cannot think that._

_Knock, knock, knock._

                The door opens before I can respond, and Christine and Meg are swiftly moving to the side of my bed, looking at me with concern.

                                “Are you alright, Shadow?” Meg inquires, eyes glassy.

                I’m appalled at how much she cares, but I appreciate her concern and sentiment.

                                “Yes, Meg. I just. . .I was very overwhelmed yesterday.” I admit. “Everyone thought I was helping the Phantom, Carlotta destroyed my rose. . .which is possibly the only beautiful gift I’ve been given by anyone.”

                                “I have another for you. Someone handed it to me in all the commotion last night, and it had a note with your name on it.” Christine says quietly, holding a fresh, new rose in her hands.

                Her eyes tell me what she can’t speak out loud.

                                _The rose is from him._ I speculate.

                It is this one thought that brings a vibrant smile to my lips, and I eagerly hold out my hands to take it. My fingers trail over the velvet ribbon that is tied around the elegant flower, and I allow a small sigh of contentment to escape.

                                “You must truly adore flowers, Miss Shadow.” Meg smiles, seeming to cheer up now that she knows I’m okay. “I’ll have to convince Mother to get some for you. Do you know who could have possibly given you that one?”

                I look up at her and exchange a rapid glance with Christine.

                                “He is perhaps one of the only friends I’ve ever made.” I explain, unable to say anything more.

                                “Who is it?” Her blue eyes light up considerably with interest and curiosity.

                                “He’s someone I’d never expected to be my friend, but I cannot tell you his name, for we have only ever exchanged salutations by letter.” I lie, not wanting to disclose the Phantom’s identity to her.

                I didn’t know his real name anyway.

                                “Shadow, may I talk with you about something important?” Christine asks, before turning to Meg with a sympathetic look. “Alone, please?”

                Meg nods, assuring Christine it’s no problem, and exits the room.

                                “You were dancing with the Phantom last night, Shadow.” She states matter-of-factly. “You danced with him as though he’d done absolutely nothing wrong. Are you truly working with him, Shadow?”

                My eyes begin to fill once more, but I shove them back. At least Christine is being kind enough to ask for my input instead outright accusing me.

                                “No, Christine.” I state truthfully, trying to be firm. “I danced with him because. . .” I trail off, trying to rationalize my actions. “I. . .I don’t—“

                                “Do you love him, Shadow?” Christine’s work strike me point blank.

                I’m speechless.

                                “I. . .” Deep down inside I feel like I have my answer, but I shake my head, not wanting to believe it. “I don’t know. . .” I state honestly.

                So many emotions are raging inside of me all at once that I’m uncertain of how to untangle them all.

                Christine looks at me for the longest time, trying to discern if I’m being truthful or not.

                                “Shadow,” She begins with a deep breath. “If you love him, he will never let you go. I will never see you again. He will keep you trapped down there in his realm of unending darkness. I don’t want to lose my sister.”

                                “Christine, I truly am unsure. I don’t know how I feel.”

                Silence permeates the room as I gaze up at her helplessly.

                                “Very well. Enough of that dark subject.” She exhales, before smiling and moving on. “How do you like Raoul, Shadow? Do you believe you will like staying with the two of us?”

                                “Raoul is caring and a true gentleman, and he obviously makes you happy. I don’t see why I couldn’t get used to living with the two of you once you are married.” I nod.

                Christine exchanges a few more pleasantries with me, before parting and running off to take of some sort of errand. It is in her absence that I finally close my eyes and allow the small orbs of liquid to make their trek down my cheeks.

                Christine’s excitement for her marriage with Raoul reminds me of the agonized expression within the Phantom’s eyes last night, and I flinch as I remember the sharp _snap!_ that was a result from his yanking the chain from Christine’s neck.

                I can’t seem to find the fight to deny myself anymore.

                I love him.

                                “ _Angel of Music_ ,” I cry softly, hoping he doesn’t hear my pitiful weeping once more.

                I lose track of time the tears continue falling, and am unable to hide them when I hear the door open.

                Christine walks in with Raoul, and they are both talking in serious, low tones.

                                “Shadow, what’s wrong?!” Christine immediately runs over to my side.

                Raoul follows quickly.

                                “Did he come here? Has he hurt you?” He immediately speculates.

                                “No.” I moan, sniffling. “I just. . .my emotions are all over the place.”

                                “We need to tell her.” Christine declares, looking sternly at Raoul as though sending him a silent, telepathic message.

                Raoul’s eyes light up with comprehension as the both sit down on the side of my bed and look at me.

                                “Shadow,” He takes a deep breath, obviously not too excited to tell me the news. “I have arranged a trap for the Opera Ghost with the managers. We are going to capture him on the night of the performance of _Don Juan_. With Christine as the lead, he’ll be sure to turn up.”

                My heart shatters, and I can’t help but think that once they have their hands on him, they’ll try and torture or murder him for all he’s done.

                                “WHAT?!” I exclaim, sitting up in bed. “No! You can’t! He. . .He’s my friend!”

                Raoul is about to say something in rebuttal when Christine puts her hand on his shoulder.

                                “Shadow, you may not know yet yourself, but you love him.” She states bluntly, making my lower lip quiver. “I know you don’t want this to happen, but you must realize that he is a murderer. He’ll stop at nothing to keep me trapped here. If he has to kill everyone in this opera including you, Shadow, he will.”

                Her words sent me spiraling into a dark, dark pit of despair.

                                “H-He’s my friend. . .h-he wouldn’t—“

                                “He will, Shadow.”

                An eerie silence follows her statement, and I try my best to keep my composure.

                                “Christine, please,” I beg, humbling myself by getting up and burying my face in her lap, clenching her dress in desperation. “Please, don’t go through with this.”

                                “Oh, Shadow,” Christine sighs, clearly heartbroken at my state. “Raoul, isn’t there anything—“

                                “No.” He deadpans, his tone firm. “We must go after him, Christine. You just said it. He’ll only kill more people to get to you.” A short pause ensues, before Raoul says something that twists the knife in my heart even deeper. “Shadow. . .you’re wasting your time. I’m so sorry to have to say that to you, but it’s obvious the Phantom’s affections are not existent for you. I-I honestly wish I could help, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

                For the longest time I just stay face-down in Christine’s dress, wailing my grief into the soft fabric. Both she and Raoul try their best to coax me into a calm state, but even I can’t make myself stop crying.

                When my head is too light to cry anymore, Christine delicately pushes me back so that my head is back on the pillow, and my eyes are closed.

                                “We’ll be back sometime later tonight to check on you. You may be asleep again by then, but rest well until we return, my sweet Shadow.” Christine whispers in my ear, before she places a kiss on my forehead and leaves. “I love you, dear sister.”

                Their exit is made known by the soft _click_ from the lock on the door.

I open my eyes the moment they leave, my mind in a disarray. Yet, through the muddle of thoughts there is one thing that I know I must do.

I have to warn the Phantom of the events to come.

Getting out of bed, I do my best to wipe away my tears and make them unnoticeable. I don’t want him to see me upset. I just need him to know that I’m serious and that dangers are heading his way.

The mirror is the only secret passage that I’ve learned of thus far; it’s the only one I know the way through without getting trapped in some kind of lasso that he might have set up for trespassers along the way.

Taking a deep breath, I open the mirror, and take a step inside.


	10. Conflicted

Phantom's POV

_If he has to kill everyone in this opera including you, Shadow, he will._

_H-He’s my friend. . .h-he wouldn’t—_

_He will, Shadow._

The words exchanged between Christine and Shadow bounce around in my head without end, my heart truly sorrowful for Shadow.

                Raoul and Christine were being very harsh with her about me.

                Yet, Shadow still continued to stand up for me, and no one has ever done that before.

                When I hear silence behind the mirror, I know that Christine and the fop have retreated from the room, leaving Shadow alone. I stay for a few seconds to see if she plans to do anything, or if she’s actually sleeping.

                It isn’t long before I see her form gliding toward the mirror. I back up against the wall and blend in so that she doesn’t see me at first.

                                “I knew you would come.” I whisper, putting a hand on her shoulder and scaring her momentarily. “You need not come to warn me. I’ve already heard.”

                                “Monsieur, they’ll kill you!” She tells me in a broken voice.

                                “Nonsense. They have no idea what they’re up against.” I boldly proclaim.

                Shadow’s eyes have lost their light, as she looks up at me with her dark brown eyes.

                                “Please, Monsieur! I beg you not to go.”

                                “Your pleas fall on deaf ears for the night, Mademoiselle, I am sorry.” I respond, hating myself for the glassiness that coats her eyes at my answer. “Please, do not be upset.”

                                “You can’t go!” She shrieks, her hands suddenly clutching the fabric of my shirt. “You simply can’t! Please!” Her head is buried into my chest.

                                “Mademoiselle, I must.”

                                “Why?!” She gasps in exasperation, looking up at me. “Why must you go?!”

                                “I love Christine.” I argue, though the words don’t ring as true as normal.

                Shadow’s eyes darkened even more so, and her arms dropped limply to her side.

                                “Monsieur—“

                                “Erik,” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. “My name is Erik.”

\--------------------------

Shadow's POV

                Erik.

                The name sends a flood of warmth to my heart, but I remember that I’m trying to persuade him to stay, and I harden my gaze at him again.

                                “Erik. . .” My eyes meet his, and I’m not sure what I see in his but I desperately yearn for him to see the affection that I’m sure is present in mine. “Erik, you can’t go.”

                                “Shadow. . .” He purrs, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek.

                My eyes flutter closed and I lean into his gentle hold, wishing that I could do something to make him stop whatever plan he has for _Don Juan_. I can feel his thumb gentle rub my cheek, and I place my hands over his, never wanting to leave.

                                “Please. . .” I choke out, trembling at the warmth he ignites inside me. “Please, Erik. . .you can’t go. They’ll kill you, or you’ll get hurt.” I look up at him once more, before tackling him violently in a hug.

                                “Shadow, I must—“

                                “NO!” I scream, backing away from him, the flood finally breaking free from my eyelids. “YOU CAN’T!” I shake as I try to contain all of my conflicted feelings, and my breathing becomes quick and sporadic. “They have hundreds of guards set up for you! They are going to stop at **nothing** to get rid of you, Erik!”

                                “Why do you care what they do?!” He bellows, his temper rising.

                                “BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU, AND I LOVE YOU!” The oh-so truthful words that have been yearning to escape my lips send me back against the wall; my eyes widen as I realize what I’ve said, and I stare fearfully at his slack-jawed expression. “I-I. . .” My feet move slightly, seeking a hasty retreat, but I can only stand there and sob. “I-I already know you don’t feel the same. . .so don’t. . .don’t feel compelled to make me feel any better about it. . .”

                The moment he starts to speak is when my legs finally remember that they are capable of movement, and I bolt down into the labyrinth. Tears blur my vision as I hear him call my name, but I keep running.

                My mind is in a jumble of thoughts, so when I turn the wrong direction, I don’t realize it until I notice the gaping hole in front of me. When I notice, I turn back around and find the last intersection I had been at moments ago, before realizing that I’m lost.

                I begin to panic and take the first right, before I realize it’s a dead end, and turn back around.

                                _Where do I go?! Where do I go?!_ I place my head in my hands and try to breathe deeply, but it’s an impossibility.

                I can’t focus.

                So, I just sprint back the way I’ve just come from, and take a different direction, that leads to two more intersections, both of which I take a right in.

                Then there’s another dead end.

                Screaming in frustration, I slide down against the wall, pulling my knees up to my chest and shivering violently with all of the confused emotions inside me.

                                “ ** _Shadow!_** ” His voice makes my breathing hitch, as I realize I have to choose between letting him help me, and hiding from him.

                                “Erik. . .” I whimper hopelessly, before gaining a bit more confidence. “Monsieur!”

                                “ ** _I’m coming!_** ” His voice echoes through the caves, and I bury my face in my knees once more.

                Several thoughts and questions race around my head, most of which I don’t have an answer for. They clash and fight with each other for my attention, but all I can do it weep and whimper from being too overwhelmed with it all.

                                _What are Christine and Raoul going to think when they come back and find me gone? What will the managers think? Madame Giry is going to be furious if I miss another rehearsal. What have I done? Erik must hate me now. . ._ The last thought sends me into another harsh fit of tears, and I suddenly know exactly how Erik felt when he heard Christine and Raoul singing their declaration of love to one another.

                And it only hurts that much worse to know that he went through this heart shattering agony.

                                “Shadow,” His voice breathes in my ear, making me flinch. “Shadow, oh, you’re safe. I thought I might not reach you in time.”

                Sniffling is the only response he receives.

                I don’t even lift my head.

                                “Shadow, dear?” His voice is urgent and concerned.

                                “I-I’m sorry. . .” I’m sincere in these words, and though I should probably be saying much more, they are the only words I can think of to say in this moment. “I’m so sorry. . .” A small cry breaks out of my throat again, then a hopeless squeak.

                                “Shh,” He coos, before I feel his warm cloak around me, and suddenly I’m being lifted up gently. “You’ve no reason to apologize to me, Little Shadow.”

                                “Monsieur, I’m sorry.” I say again, curling in close to his chest and squeezing my eyes shut tightly. “I-I am—“

                                “Hush, now, dear Shadow.” He purrs, his voice soothing and sure. “I hold nothing against you. You have been there for me and stood up for me when no one else has, and for that, you need not apologize to me anymore.”

                Though my eyes are dry of tears, I still weep at what I must be putting him through. Not only does he have to deal with his raging affections for Christine, but now he must stay cautious of the guards during _Don Juan_ , and worry about hurting the feelings of a bothersome, orphan rat.

                                “Please, try and rest from all of your troublesome thoughts, my dear.” He consoles me, and I feel him shift me into a more comfortable position in his arms. “I will take you to my lair to rest for now. If you are still asleep when I need to take you back, then I will wake you and show you exactly how to get back to your room so that you don’t get lost again.”

                Despite the fact that I want to be put at ease and rest until he wakes me up again, I can’t seem to find enough refuge from all of my rampant ponderings.

                                “ _Nighttime sharpens heightens each sensation,_ ” The melodious sounds that escape his vocal chords are capable of making my eyes flutter closed, and I can feel the song resonate within in the very deepest part of me.

                This time when my nightmare of darkness hits, it’s different.

                Instead of a nightmare, I consider it paradise.


	11. An Ode To Shadow

Phantom's POV

                By the time I’ve finished serenading Shadow into a fitful slumber, I’m picking her up out of the boat and carefully walking her up to the bed that had been meant specifically for Christine. As I lay her down, I take note of how peaceful she looks when she’s secure in her dream realm, no problems or struggles to bring any sign of stress or discontent upon her face.

                She’s beautiful this way.

                I turn away from her for a moment to try and collect my thoughts. So many things need attending to, and yet only one thought remains at the forefront of my mind.

                                _Shadow loves me._ The idea sends shivers of pleasure and repulsion rippling through me. _That’s ludicrous. She was speaking like a madwoman. She would say anything to get me to stay here and not go through with Don Juan._ My mind doesn’t agree with this theory. The look in her eyes was far too raw and honest for it to have been a lie. _How could she love me with this grotesque infection that I was born with? This face is the reason Christine will not admit that she loves me._

                                “Erik. . .” My heart leaps in my throat as I whip around to Shadow’s sleeping form.

                Though her eyes are still closed and it’s obvious she’s asleep, there’s no doubting that the sound came from her. My eyebrows furrow, as I wonder if she’s having a nightmare.

                                “Shadow?” I breathe softly, bending beside the bed to watch over her.

                A long moment of silence follows my question.

                                “Erik.” She finally responds with a sigh of bliss, a hint of a smile curling at her lips while she rests.

                I gaze at her in bewilderment, wondering what she could be dreaming about to be talking about me in her sleep. Taking a risk, I gingerly brush a lock of hair away from her face, looking at her with conflicted feelings.

                                _She loves me, but I love Christine_. I think, but the words only seem to tangle my sea of emotions even more than they already are. _This must be why she was crying that evening on the roof; she understood what it felt like to love someone who didn’t return the sentiment._

                My heart goes out to Shadow because, if I know nothing else about how she feels, I understand her emotions as far as her unrequited love is concerned.

                It still appalls me that said unrequited love is myself.

                                “Poor child.” I sigh, sitting on the side of the bed to watch over her. “So much despair you have gone through.” My fingers graze the top of her head hesitantly, before I stroke her hair with a caring hand. “I’m sorry I put you through all of that nonsense with the managers. They are fools to believe everything I say.”

                 As I say this an idea springs to mind. It is something that will keep Shadow out of the line of fire, and also to make certain the idiots follow my orders, unlike last time.

                Making sure Shadow is still tucked away and with no intention of waking up soon, I swiftly make my way to my makeshift desk area, and briskly grab a quill and a slip of parchment.

**Gentleman,**

**I’m sure you’ve been wondering as to whether or not your very own Shadow has been my accomplice. I find it insulting that you would believe I need help from anyone. My reasoning behind the name shall now be demonstrated, for your little Shadow shall truly be mine. Unless you allow Christine Daae to play the main role of Aminta in my most recent play, your precious Shadow shall henceforth be held captive with me. Do not disappoint me, gentlemen.**

**O.G.**

                Pleased with myself, I grab an envelope and put the letter inside, sealing it with my signature wax skull.

                                _This should make those idiots feel guilty for how they’ve made poor Shadow feel._ I scoff bitterly in my mind.

                I shift in my chair so that I can see if Shadow is close to waking or not, but she appears to still be in a deep slumber, and I don’t believe that she’ll wake anytime soon. So, I move around as quietly as possible, grab my letter, and make a quick run to Giry in order to make sure the managers receive their letter.

                Once that is done, I make my way back to my lair, and am relieved to see that Shadow is still fast asleep and has barely moved. I’ll have to explain to her later that she’ll have to stay with me for the next month and a half since I’m supposed to have “kidnapped” her.

                                _She loves me and I’m still going through with Don Juan; this will break her heart._ I find myself pondering. _Perhaps I shouldn’t. . ._ But I quickly shake my head and begin walking over to my organ in defiance of those foolish thoughts. _No. Christine will be mine. If I back out now, all of this will have been done for nothing!_

                Satisfied with my resolve on the situation, I sit down at the organ and take a fleeting glance at Shadow, a sad smile forming on my face.

                                “Pour toi, Mademoiselle Shadow,” I whisper the words into existence.

                And then my fingers stroke the keys, and my music comes to life.

                Notes sweet and soft escape from underneath my hands and through the pipes of my organ. A tune like that of a whimsical child floats into the atmosphere, before changing into a melody of a child abandoned and neglected. Symphonic tones of hope and acceptance flow from my fingertips, before turning into a more hushed song of unknown affection. As the knowledge of the dear young lady grows stronger, the notes crescendo until finally there’s no mistaking it: this is a song of pure and unadulterated adoration. It plays on for but a moment, before my pinkie slips the aria into a minor key, a signal that the young woman’s love is not returned to her.

                I take moments here and there in between fragments of the composition, writing down the rapturous sounds on a blank page of sheet music, making the song immortal to everything but decay.

                                “ _Angel of Music,_ ” I hear a sweet, timid voice break through my musical barrier, but only for a moment, before my fingers play more intently across the keys.

                In the next instant I am stopping to jot down the notes, I feel a presence beside me; I know without looking that it’s Shadow, but I stiffen, remembering when Christine had been here.

                She’d revealed the horror beneath the mask when I let her get too close.

                So, I scoot a hair away from her, before continuing on with my piece that is dedicated to the conflicted woman beside me.

                As the music holds its sway over me, I can just make out the lightest pressure on my shoulder. I pay it absolutely no attention until I’ve finished the piece and have it written all down.

                                “That was. . .angelic.” Shadow breathes, her head resting peacefully on my shoulder.

                I place a kiss on the top of her head before it registers in my head what I’m doing. I flinch back quickly, not certain why I just did that. Perhaps it is a result of how strongly the music took a hold of me.

                _Music brings out my truest emotions and urges me to act on them, meaning that I do, in some degree, care for Shadow._ I discern, my eyes widening at the revelation. _Well, who wouldn’t, anyway! She’s kind and knows when not to meddle. She hasn’t even bothered to try and remove my mask._

                                “What now, Monsieur Phantom?” Her tiny voice queries, breaking through my idle wonderings.

                                _She needs to know that she’ll be staying down her while they rehearse for Don Juan and why._ I resolve, turning slightly so as not to disturb her position.

                                “You will be staying here with me for the duration of rehearsals for _Don Juan_.” I explain. “Considering you’ve been persecuted enough for your supposed comradery with me, I have given a letter to Madame Giry. She shall deliver it to the managers and they will know where you are. I clarified in that letter that you were never in any sort of alliance with me, and that I would be ‘holding you hostage’ down here with me, to make certain that they put Christine in the main role.”

                There’s a long silence that follows my explanation.


	12. Be Safe, That's All I Ask of You

                                “So. . .I’m staying down here for the entirety of rehearsals? I don’t go sing or dance in the performance at all?” I’m surprised by how hurt I sound, because in all honesty, the reason I’m upset has nothing to do with my absence from the show.

                It’s the fact that he’s really going through with _Don Juan._

                Those icy blue eyes tell me that he knows the hidden pain behind my words, but his lips answer my spoken question in an effort to console me.

                                “Yes.” He responds, before expanding on his statement. “Rehearsals here usually last about a month or so, but since this is an entirely new opera it’s likely it could take a little longer. It all depends on how efficiently the managers carry out their tasks.”

                Despite the fact that I know it will do no good to try and convince him otherwise, my response to this is still a plea for him not to go through with it.

                                “Erik, must you really go through with this?” I whisper, looking down at my feet.

                Now that he knows how I feel about him, it makes communicating these things all the more awkward and embarrassing.

                His hand is under my chin in seconds, and I tremble as I stare into those eyes.

                                “Shadow, I know this is hard for you, but please. . .don’t you understand?” His voice begs for me to just trust him and stop trying to persuade him. “Please, please try not to be upset.”

                I’m unable to say anything as long as I am looking at him. His eyes hold a power over me that’s been present since I first met him, and it’s only grown in strength since he knows how I feel. So, I look away and step over to sit on the organ seat, running my fingers over the keys, though not hard enough to emit any sounds.

                                “Would you like to learn to play?” His voice is hesitant, telling me that he’s worried he might press a button and set me off if he’s not too careful.

                                “No thank you, Monsieur. Not today.”

                                “Is there anything you are fond of doing that I can get the materials for you to do so?”

                                “No, Mons—“ I cut myself off, before I backtrack. “Actually, yes, Monsieur. I am rather fond of writing - at least, in a journal of some sort. Might you have anything to write with and paper to write it down on?”

                                “Of course.”

                He disappears for a few moments to collect the materials, and I allow myself to sing a few quiet notes of concern and heartache.

                                “ _Be safe, that’s all I ask of you._ ”

. . . . .

                Rehearsals did last longer than they usually would, but most of it was from the production being completely new, as Erik had told me.

                Staying with Erik allowed me a glimpse at who Don Juan was, considering he practiced the part in the lair during those two months. I never stopped trying to persuade him to stay here and try another, less dangerous way of winning Christine’s heart.

                But every time I received denial as his response.

                                “Shadow, would you mind helping me with something?” His voice lures me out of my daydreams, and I walk over to a place where he has a mirror set up so he can put on his mask and make sure it’s straight. “Does the costume look good? Does it need any adjustments?”

                He stands in front of me so that I can see the full effect of his appearance.

                Of course, I think he’s breath-taking as always.

                He has a white, long-sleeved shirt with fluffy cuffs at the wrists with a similar design around the neck of the shirt; this shirt is hiding underneath a collared, black, formal jacket. His black mask covers most of his face, revealing only the slightest hint of his hairline, as well as the bottom half of his face just under his nose. Those iceberg blue eyes of his sparkle from behind his mask, making me shift my gaze – in an effort to calm myself - to his shoes and trousers to make sure there are no altercations necessary in order to make the outfit fit better.

                                “You look utterly astounding, as usual.” I exhale, looking at the ruffles in his white shirt and realizing that it needs to be readjusted. “Actually, hold on.” My fingers tremble as I attempt to fix his shirt, my heart racing as I try to focus on evening out how much ruffle is seen on each side, but I can feel the anxiety and passion for this incredibly beautiful and talented man building up inside of me as I take in the fact that he’s about to put himself in harm’s way.

                                “Shadow,” He purrs, and within moments he has me gazing up at him again. “Are you alright?”

                My throat closes up as I stare at him intently for what might be the last time. That concerned light behind his eyes, the way he delicately holds my chin as though I’m a fragile doll, all of it is engraved into my mind as I look up at him.

                                “How can I be?” I whisper, defeated and crestfallen.

                His only response is a look of guilt that tells me he is truly sorry for what he is about to put me through; my knowledge that he loves Christine is one of the only things that pushes me to forgive him and try and be joyful for the happiness that he may find should she choose him.

                                “It is time for us to depart.” He says, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of beginning to move in the direction of the cave’s exit.

                Deep brown tree branches get covered in a fine mist of icy blue sleet as we continue to look at one another, neither of us wanting to break the connection.

                Involuntarily, my hand reaches up to caress his cheek as I have half a mind to kiss him before he leaves. It may be the only chance I ever have to communicate just how deeply and vastly powerful my affections for him are. I lean up to do so at first, before sacrificing my own feelings and turning his face to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

                No point in being overdramatic.

                                “It is time for us to depart.” I repeat, unshed tears building up in my throat as I finally turn away and walk towards the exit of the cave.

                There is a hushed silence as my footsteps echo on the stone beneath me.

                                “Shadow.” He calls from behind me, and my heart leaps as I spin to look at him.

                Could it be? Has he finally realized that this is dangerous and isn’t going through with it? Have my pleas finally registered with him? I’m sure my eyes communicate all of these hopeful questions and feelings when I turn to him, because he looks back at me with eyes that are filled with remorse that he is going to crush my optimism.

                                “I thought. . .I thought that this might help,” He swallows, walking up to me with his hands behind his back. “I know it probably won’t, but in any event. . .” He brings his right hand from behind his back and produces a rose with a bow-tied, black velvet ribbon.

                I almost lose control of myself right there.

                                “Erik,” I begin, reining in my tears and averting my gaze since I don’t have the strength to look at him. “Thank you.” My fingers firmly grasp the stem, and I hold it close to me. “We have to go now.”

                Though walking up to the stage has almost always ignited a flaming passion inside of me for singing and dancing, now it feels like a death march. The air that is usually delicious and full of nervous energy now feels suffocating and toxic.

                Once we arrive behind the curtain where I can hear Piangi and Christine singing to the audience, Erik looks at me and I can feel my body trembling as I withhold my cries of agony and desperation that he forget about this and keep himself safe.

                                “Shadow, I will be safe, I promise.”

                                “Don’t.” I beg, choking back a sob. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

                                “Please, Shadow--“

                                “Please what?” I murmur, knowing I have to be quiet because the play is going on behind the curtain. “What do you want me to do?”

                We both know there isn’t a clear answer to this question, but I’m too overwhelmed by fear and worry to care very much at this point.

                Before I realize what’s happening, sparks of electricity shoot throughout my body as Erik is suddenly flush against me, leaning down as if to kiss me.

                His lips barely graze mine, a ghost of a kiss, before he pulls back and his eyes once again apologize to me, and then he disappears behind the curtain. I can only stand stock still, completely dazed for a few moments, before resolving to hide behind a pillar a few feet away from the set to watch the opera and make certain that Erik stays safe.

                Piangi is still out there with Christine when I first look on the stage, but I don’t really pay much attention to the storyline until I see a dramatic shift in the build and voice of Don Juan.

                                “ _Go away for the trap is set, and waits for its prey._ ” His voice sends tingles of longing whipping through my body, and my eyes begin to flood with tears at the way he looks at Christine. “ _You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge. In pursuit of that wish, which till now, has been silent,_ ” He places a finger to his lips to let her know not to give away his cover. “ _Silent_.” I begin to shake as the tears finally escape my eyes. “ _I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge! In your mind you’ve already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me! Now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you’ve decided. Decided._ ”

                Upon listening to them both sing together, I weep as I watch the display from behind my hiding place. The vigor with which Erik sings reveals his love for Christine in startling and bold clarity; Christine’s voice is full of fear at first, but slowly builds up in confidence as she begins to believe she is full of passion just like the main female character, Amnita. When they’re finally at the top of the bridge and Erik has her flush against his chest, he tries one last attempt to woo her by singing something that isn’t in the script.

                                “ _Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude._ ” I clutch my chest and open my mouth for a cry that cannot escape because of the quiet audience. “ _Say you want me with you here, beside you._ ” He builds up a dramatic crescendo unmatched by any singer I’ve ever heard. “ _Anywhere you go let me go too! Christine, that’s all I ask of—_ “ My wail of heartbroken agony blends into the screams of the audience.

                I don’t have to be able to see clearly through my teary vision to know that Christine has revealed Erik’s face to the rest of the crowd.


	13. The Point Of No Return

                Upon hearing another, fresh round of shrieking, my eyes snap open and I can see Erik slashing at a cord beside him, and my heart sinks as I watch the giant chandelier above plummet toward the unsuspecting crowd.

                                “ERIK!” I scream at the top of my lungs, running toward the stage fire as he kicks something on the bridge and drops down into the prop fire below with Christine.

                Though it hurts to know he’s gone through such extremes for her, a part of me knows that I must follow him and at least attempt to reason with him and bring him out of the delirious phase of fury that he seems to be trapped in.

                So, not even thinking twice, I jump in.

                There’s no doubt in my mind from the pain that ensues in my legs that I’ve made a regrettable decision. However, I shake off the sore feelings in my muscles and follow the small torch of light that has just disappeared in front of me, knowing that it’s Christine and Erik.

                                “ _WHY, DO YOU ASK, WAS I BOUND AND CHAINED IN THIS COLD DISMAL PLACE?!_ ” I hear him bellow through the tunnels, making me fear for Christine. “ _NOT FOR ANY MORTAL SIN, BUT THE WICKEDNESS OF MY ABHORRENT FACE!_ ”

                                “ERIK!” I try screeching, knowing that with how this place echoes that he’ll be able to hear me.

                He doesn’t respond, clearly only thinking about Christine.

                Pushing my legs to move my body faster, I eventually make it up to them by the time they’ve reached the entrance to the lair. Erik is still roughly pulling Christine along as he loads her into the boat, and I make a last minute jump onto the boat, startling both of them.

                                “Erik, please—“

                                “THIS DOESN’T INVOLVE YOU, SHADOW!” The concentrated hatred in his voice makes me flinch back as though he’s physically assaulted me.

                But I don’t back down.

                                “It may not involve me, but you need to think about how this makes Christine feels!” I shout as loudly as possible, which doesn’t result in volume so much as it results in being higher pitched. “You can’t force her to love you!”

                                “JUST LIKE YOU CAN’T FORCE ME TO LOVE YOU!” He strikes below the belt.

                I swallow, before trying once more to put on my brave face.

                                “I only want your happiness.” I clench my teeth to stop the flow of tears I’m certain are moments away from spilling over. “But you can’t be happy if Christine isn’t happy, and this isn’t what she wants.”

                By now we’re in the cave, and he yanks Christine out of the boat by the arm and over to a mannequin of her in a wedding dress; he rips the wedding dress from the mannequin and shoves it to her chest, bidding her to go and change into it.

                Once I manage to finally maneuver out of the boat, he finally gives me his undivided attention, a hostile glare in his eyes.

                I’m stuck between being glad he’s directed away from Christine and terrified of what he might do to me in his state of blinding rage. Yet, I know I have to take care of Christine, because she’s become like a sister to me, even if I don’t understand why she’s made some of the decisions she has.

                                “Shadow,” His voice is quieter, but still as sharp as a rapier. “Come here.”

                Though I know he’s beyond irate with me, I swallow my fear and boldly walk up to him, until I almost directly in his face, bracing myself for whatever argument or stream of profane words he has to spit out at me.

                Taking a deep breath, I no longer feel afraid. I know that if Erik had any intention of harming me, he would have done it a long time ago when I’d first met him.

                                “What is it, Erik?” I question.

                The flames in his eyes didn’t lessen, but something about him seemed to break.

                                “Take a good look at it, Shadow.” He chokes out, and I don’t have to ask to know that he’s talking about his face. “Tell me something.” His temper flares once more as he takes me by the shoulders, his fingers digging into them painfully. “Would you have accepted comfort from me, or fallen in love with me, had you known what lay behind the mask?”

                                “Of course.” I respond in shock, without the slightest moment of hesitation. “No physical flaw of any kind could cause me to abandon you or make me love you any less. It is through no fault of your own that you received that.” I take a good, long look at the affliction of which Erik has grown so spiteful.

                Yet, despite the fact that it does mar his face, I can’t seem to feel any sense of disgust or repulsion. He still appears indescribably handsome to me, both in intellect and physicality. I could get lost on the cold Arctic Sea for months on end if given the chance, and those black tendrils of hair send shocks of longing through my hands as they wish to run through it.

                His eyes grow light with obvious bewilderment, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Christine’s pristine voice echoes throughout the cave, cutting off whatever words he has to say.

                                “ _Have you gorged yourself at last for you lust for blood?_ ” She is walking closer to us, and I can see that with each step closer she takes to him, Erik’s eyes return to their acrimonious state. “ _Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?_ ”

                                “Christine, plea—“ I try to reason, but Erik pushes me aside with restrained intensity and responds.

                                “ _That fate which condemns me, to wallow in blood._ ” His eyes fill with tears as he raises his hand to her cheek. “ _Has also denied me, the joys of the flesh._ ” Christine jerks away from his touch. “ _This face the infection, which poisons our love._ ”

                Involuntarily, I place a hand on his shoulder at the crack in his voice.

                                “ _This face which earned a mother’s fear and loathing._ ” He shies away from my touch, walking back towards the mannequin of Christine and taking off the veil on its head. “ _A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing. Pity comes too late!_ ” He bellows, putting the veil on Christine with fierceness. “ _Turn around and face your fate! An eternity of **this** before your eyes_.”

                                “ _This haunted face,_ ” She pulls the drapery from the mirror. “ _Holds no horror for me now. It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies._ ” Her words make Erik shut his eyes tightly and look away, and I can’t help but feel angry at Christine for being so harsh with him.

                                “Christine, please.” I beg, making her look at me with a look of regret. “Haven’t you tortured him enough already? This won’t solve anything.”

                                “Shadow, he’s gone mad, can’t you see—“ Her voice is cut off by the sound of water splashing.

                                “ _Wait, I think my dear, we have a guest!”_ Erik spits, marching toward Christine by the mirror, not even casting me a second glance. “ _Sir, this is indeed, an unparalleled delight!_ ” He walks closer to Christine. “ _I had rather hoped that you would come!_ _Now, my wish comes true, you have truly made my night!_ ” He makes it to Christine and pulls her close to him.

                She immediately fights against him.

                                “Let me go.” She breathes, moving away from him and standing by me.

                Erik appears furious but pours that fury into his stomping feet as he makes his way over to Raoul, pulling a lever to open the cage door that I hadn’t realized had been closed. I notice the slight angle of his hand and tilt my head to the side in curiosity as I wonder why he’s holding it in such a strange fashion.

                Then, just as Erik gets right up to Raoul, the gate has closed again and I see it.

                A rope moving behind Erik in the water.

                                “ERIK, DON’T!” I scream, just as he unleashes the noose at the end of the rope in his hands, and it snags Raoul’s neck.

                                “ _Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hands to the level of your eyes! No one can save you now, except perhaps Christine!_ ” He bellows, his tone victorious as he takes a glance at Christine.

                His eyes move over me for a second longer than necessary before he turns back to Raoul and ties the rope around his hands and legs so that he’s up against the cage. He holds the long rope that is connected around Raoul’s neck, arms, and legs and yanks harshly, causing the noose to tighten and Raoul gags, unable to breathe for a moment.

                                “ _Start a new life with me! Buy his freedom with your love, refuse me and you send your lover to his death!_ ” Erik challenges Christine, his eyes crazed with a mad gleam as his voice turns sinister. “ _This is the choice! THIS IS THE POINT OF NO RETURN!”_

I glance at Christine, who looks at the Phantom with nothing less than utter hatred.

                                “ _The tears I might have shed for your dark fate,”_ She begins softly, before building up into a bold, disdainful sound. “ _Grow cold and turn to tears of hate!_ ”

                All three of them begin singing at once, each one trying to get through to the other and I can only crouch to the ground and sob my own little requiem of sorrow and pity. Notes soft and bittersweet bounce from the ground and up clash fiercely with the other notes of spite and hatred being shared by Christine, Raoul, and Erik.

                Everything comes to a slow stop as Christine sings a few final words of anguish.

                                “ _Angel of Music, you’ve deceived me._ ” Her voice is fragile and weak as she whispers the rest. “I gave you my mind blindly.”

                Erik is unaffected by this, clearly only wanting her to agree to his terms and live with him for the rest of her life. He gets ready to pull on the rope attached to Raoul once more.

                                “You try my patience.” He hisses, his eyes flickering to mine for a brief moment. “Make your choice.” With these words he uses both hands to forcefully jerk the rope, making Raoul dry heave once more.

                A foreboding silence envelops the cave, and I take a hesitant step towards Erik, but feel a light pressure on my shoulder that is Christine. She’s moving closer to him, but casts an apologetic gaze my way.

                                “ _Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?_ ” She sings, her voice more composed as she takes measured steps up to him. “ _God give me courage to show you, you are not alone_.” Then, she closes the distance.

                She is kissing him.


	14. A Broken Phantom

                I’m not talking about a little peck on the lips, either.

                Christine has her hands cupping both sides of Erik’s face as she passionately presses her lips against his, and even stops for a moment before kissing him again. Raoul watches from the cage with tears streaking his face, and I don’t blame him at all.

                I’m trembling as my body wracks with my own sobs. An incredible weight seems to push on my shoulders; it sends me dropping to my knees as I grasp the stone on the edge of the lake. I grip the side with immeasurable force, trying to stop my mind and heart from spiraling out of control from the overwhelming sense of anguish that I’ve just been exposed to.

                The truth of it all weighs in on me in that single instant.

                Erik truly doesn’t love me back and never will; Christine will always be the main subject of his affections; Erik is willing to do absolutely anything to keep her in his grasp.

                It all feels like I’m trapped in a fairy tale. . .only I’m not the princess who receives her happy ending.

                I know there’s no place for me now that Christine has kissed Erik. Chances are, with the kiss, he’ll take it as Christine’s consent to live with him and forget Raoul in order to save his life.

                However, Erik does something unexpected.

                When Christine finally pulls away from him, Erik’s face is not composed in the way that someone who has received their first kiss would normally be. In fact, his eyes are full of tears that are pouring down his cheeks in waves, and on instinct I make my way over to stand behind him and put a comforting hand on the back of his shoulder.

                                “Go, forget me. Forget all of this.” He hisses to Christine and Raoul as he weeps, and turns to look at me. “You can go too, Shadow. Forget me.”

                                “Come with us, Shadow.” Christine’s voice calls instantly.

                But the moment I look up at her, her face falls and she **knows**.

                                “Christine—“ I cry, before she nods to me in reluctant agreement.

                                “I know you wish to stay, Shadow.” Her voice is weak and I can hear the tightness in her throat as she tries to stay strong. “If you should wish to see us again, just ask Madame Giry, as I’m sure she’ll be able to communicate with you. . .I love you, Shadow.”

                My heart is in my throat as I try to contain myself.

                                “I love you too, Christine. I’m so sorry. . .I—“ But she won’t have it.

                                “You love him, Shadow. You do not feel you can leave him; do not apologize for that to me.” She coos, her voice gentle and soothing before her eyes harden a bit. “Though, I really don’t want to leave you with him. . .”

                I watch Erik flinch at her works, and I feel the sting of the remark almost as though I’d been the recipient of the insult. Yet, I can still empathize with why she doesn’t want me to stay.

                                “I know, Christine.” I nod, before looking at her with a determined gleam in my eyes. “But. . .I love him. I cannot leave him in such a desperate hour of need; please understand that.”

                                “I do.” Her eyes are filled with hopelessness, and I know that was her last attempt at persuading me to leave with them. “Don’t lose yourself in this madness, Shadow. Promise me that.”

                                “I promise, Christine.”

                And then they’re both gone.

                                “Shadow, you don’t have to stay here with me.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, and I can tell he is a different man through the way he speaks.

                He’s a man that’s given up all hope in the world.

                                “Erik,” I breathe, turning to him with tears collecting in my eyelids. “I. . .I know it hurts, but please don’t give up all hope. There is so much more to life. Like your music!” I try to reason with him, pushing aside my own affections and current, melancholy state to try and help him feel better.

                                “What good is my music now? It was all written for her.” He moans, falling to his knees behind the stool of his organ and weeping. “ _It’s over now the music of the night._ ”

                I open my mouth to attempt some sort of consolation to his statement, when my eyes land on the sheet music that’s currently sitting on the organ.

                _Pour Vous, Ma Chère Ombre_ is the title.

                                “ _For You, My Dear Shadow_.” I exhale quietly.

                He has written a composition for me. The circumstances and reasoning are beyond me, but he’s been comforting me for a long time, and perhaps this is another gesture of his true sorrow for how much pain I’ve endured.

                But for now, it is my reasoning of his need to continue hoping.

                                “You haven’t written **all** of it for her.” I deny, kneeling down beside him and gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder. “You have an unfinished piece on the organ that doesn’t appear to be anything like _Don Juan_ or any of the other compositions I’ve seen.”

                                “She doesn’t love me back!” He cries out, as if I don’t already know that.

                                “She doesn’t.” I deadpan, standing up as I think that he doesn’t seem to desire any sort of affection from me since he’s so heartbroken over Christine right now. “And it will hurt for some time, Erik, but you’re going to have to choose whether or not you allow it to make you lose all hope.”

                A choked sob is my only response.

                                “Erik?” I purr, trying to keep his mind focused on growing stronger.

                                “Mm?” His voice is a low moan of lament, and it tortures my soul to see him in such a state, so I try to whisper kind words of consolation.

                                “You’ll be okay. It may not feel like it now, but you will grow stronger from this, Erik. I believe in you. I believe you can compose great things again.” I encourage, hoping that it helps on some level.

                                “Shadow, what if those compositions end up coming from some other woman that I fall in love with? What if they aren’t for you? Would you still comfort me this way?” He’s suddenly staring at me.

                He doesn’t say this with the intention of hurting me; instead, his face is full of unadulterated curiosity. He truly wonders how on Earth I would have the energy and strength to love him if such cases arose.

                                “I love you, Erik. That will never change. So, I use the pain and hurt as building blocks to strengthen myself.” I swallow thickly. “All I will ever want in my life, is your happiness.”

                And then he dissolves into a fit of tears, crawling over to me in such a hopeless state of being that I want to pull him in my arms and give him all of the love and affection I have to offer. But I know he doesn’t care for me in that way, and if a kiss from Christine could bring him to his knees in agony like this, I don’t see how a hug from myself would be any better.

                One moment, I’m looking into those broken, blue eyes and the next I feel a flame ignite inside of me as he abruptly pulls at my dress and then launches his arms around my waist and cries into my stomach, clinging to the fabric of my dress for dear life.

                                “E-Erik,” I begin, still struggling relentlessly to keep from weeping myself. “Shh, shh, I’m here, Erik. I will not leave.” I stroke his hair in an effort to calm him and myself.

                His fingers clench into the seams of my dress, and I can feel his agony through the shaking of his body as he wails into my stomach, his face buried into me as if he can just disappear into oblivion by hiding from the world.

                                “She’s gone. . .” He whimpers, his voice muffled.

                My heart goes out to this broken man as I can do nothing but simply confirm is statement.

                                “I know.”

                His sobs grow louder for a moment, and he squeezes me tighter as though I am a life preserver keeping him afloat.

                                “Sh-She doesn’t love me back. . .” His body seems to go limp as he comes to a realization. “S-She never,” A cough of sorrow breaks through as he finally admits it to himself. “She never l-loved me. . .”

                                “She didn’t. . .” Though I know the words sting, I don’t know what else to tell him. He has to hear it or his hopes may rise and he’ll find Christine again. “But. . .but she is happy now, Monsieur Erik. Doesn’t that give you at least a small source of comfort?” I try to bring up some encouragement out of all this.

                I know the moment I’ve said these things that it helps, but it also hurts, and there is nothing that I could ever do to completely numb the pain that has been instilled within him.

                I know because I can feel those same sentiments gnawing deep within my soul right now as I stare at this man I love so dearly.

                                “It hurts. . .” His sobs begin to die off, but in contrast, he pulls me closer to him. “It hurts, my Shadow. . .” He moans in despair.

                My heart lurches as I listen to what he calls me. The idea of being his is immediately crushed as I come up with logical reasoning for his statement.

                                _He’s in distress, Shadow. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He says it so he feels a sense of stability in his crumbling world._ I can’t allow my hopes to rise when I know it will just hurt me in the end.

                                “I know it does,” I purr, trying to ease the pain by running my fingers through his hair and giving him kind words of assurance. “I know it does, Erik. I’m here, fret not.”

                In an instant, I can feel him tense up against me, and I’m ready for any screaming, sobbing, or tantrums that he has to express his current state of emotion, but what escapes his lips next startles me.

                                “Is. . .” He trails off for a moment before he looks up at me with regret in his eyes. “Is this what you felt?” A short cry flees his lips. “Is this what you felt when I rejected you?”

                Although I know he has a right to know what he made me feel, I can’t seem to find it in my heart to want to tell him. I don’t want to make him feel any worse, and I don’t want him to feel any guilt for something that he can’t really control.

                                “That’s not what’s important right now, Erik.” I breathe, trying to keep my tears at bay.

                                “Tell me, Shadow.” Though his voice is still broken and gentle, his eyes demand that I tell him.

                My throat closes up with tears as I cover my mouth and turn away, nodding. My body quivers with pent up sorrow, but I stay strong so that I don’t hurt Erik anymore.

                Silence envelops both of us for a long time. The only sound in the cave is the sound of staggered breathing from the both of us trying to compose ourselves in an effort to face one another.

                I inhale sharply when I feel his hand on my shoulder, turning me around as I keep my glassy eyes facing the ground. But I have no choice but to look at him when he places his fingers under my chin and tilts my head up, so I can see the guilt reflected there.

                                “I am so sorry, my Shadow.” His voice is soft but manages to echo off the walls around us.

                There it is again, “my” Shadow.

                I want to scream. I want to throw a fit and curl up in his arms; I want to let the dam behind my eyelids burst forth as I reveal to him all over again how much I care about him and how I just want him to be happy.

                But I can’t.

                                “I. . .I forgive you.” I whisper, unable to speak any louder for fear that I’ll break.

                He swallows thickly as he holds me captured in his gaze.

                                “I’m so sorry, Shadow.” He repeats again with vigor. “I’m sorry, I should have never put you through that. No one deserves to endure this much pain. You deserve so much better than that.” He shudders slightly as he pulls me into an embrace. “I apologize because I exploited your affections for me. . .I used that as a weapon against you; I went too far.” He pulls back again to look at me with glassy eyes. “I’m sorry.”

                My body trembles as I listen to his voice; his sweet, angelic voice is telling me of everything I deserve and how sorry he is for everything that has occurred, and I suddenly can’t handle it anymore.

                I lose it.


	15. Shadow of Light

                The tears I’ve been holding back finally escape, and I cover my mouth as I turn away from him, knowing that I can’t lean on him or go to him for comfort because my affections might only put him in a worse state because of Christine’s rejection.

                                “Shh, come here, Little Shadow.” His voice is close and in a few moments he has me enveloped in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

                Though my heart is in agony, I can’t let him pin all of this blame on himself. He cannot blame himself for loving someone that is not me, and I won’t allow it.

                                “I-It’s not. . .your fault.” I choke out through sobs, turning towards him and burying myself in the warmth of his chest as my body trembles violently. “It’s n-never been your f-fault.”

                My fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt, and I can’t seem to find anymore will left within me to stop crying. The tears just keep coming.

                                “Shh, I am here, Shadow.” His voice is comforting and coaxing.

                It’s his voice that allows my boisterous sobbing to become soft, sporadic whimpers; his voice and touch alone persuades my body to go from fierce trembling to lighter shudders. Nevertheless, my fingers are clinging desperately to his shirt, as I fear letting go.

                His fingers run through my hair and send waves of electricity spiraling through my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. My eyes flutter shut involuntarily, and I can feel myself relax. I’d have never imagined that such a simple act of petting my hair could feel so satisfactory.

                                “I never realized how lucky I was to have you by my side,” Erik breathes, as I listen contently to his voice. “I’m so sorry.”

                I feel a small bout of pride wash over me at the idea that I am the source of his undivided attention right now, and I hope against all hope that I can stay here in his arms forever.

                                “I was such a fool,” He continues, remorse saturating his tone. “I wanted to be accepted and loved, but I was too idiotic and obsessed to realize that I had that in you.”

                Though I want to protest that it is only natural for humans to want attention and love, I can’t respond because of the mind-numbing experience of being captured in his arms. Perhaps allowing him to speak how he feels will allow him to feel better, anyway.

                                “I hurt you.” The crack in his voice returns, obliterating all sense of contentment since he has become upset again. “I’m sorry.”

                                “Please, Erik,” I beg as I look up at him. “Please do not be upset anymore. I have already forgiven you. You have deep affections for her and that is no fault of your own. Please. You don’t have to be sad anymore.”

                A wistful sigh escapes his lips as he gazes at me with sorrow.

                                “You still have the gall to support me, even though I have put you through so much anguish.” He looks down at his feet with tears in his eyes. “I do not deserve a woman such as yourself, Shadow.”

                Reaching up, I lift his chin up and wipe away each tear I see that falls.

                                “You deserve support, Monsieur Erik.” I sniffle, clenching my jaw in an effort to keep my tears at bay again, “In fact, I think you deserve so much better than me. Please don’t cry. . .”

                A dry chuckle escapes his lips, startling me for a brief moment as I look at him.

                                “There is none better than you, dear Shadow.” He says with conviction, before his eyes glaze over with grief and guilt once more. “All I ever wanted, you gave, and I was too blinded by a childish obsession to see that.”

                His pet name sends shivers up my spine, as I look at him with bewilderment.

                                “Y-You mean that?”

                                “I do.”

                His confession makes my brain go into overdrive rethinking everything that’s happened. If Christine was just a childish obsession, what happens now? If I’ve truly offered him all he has ever wanted, does that mean I still have a chance at being loved by him?

                I look down as I think this, internally shaking my head.

                Of course not. It is a futile hope to believe such a thing.

                                “I am here with you, mon Shadow.” Those words cut sharply through my focus, making my lungs have trouble functioning properly. “I hope. . .I hope you will stay with me?”

                My eyes whip up to him once more as my mouth hangs agape.

                                “Of course I will!” I exclaim, before blushing slightly. “I’ve chosen to stay here already, remember? That’s why I’m standing here.”

                His arms tighten around me again and I listen to him sigh with relief.

                                “Thank you so much, mon Shadow.” He breathes.

                A flood of intense happiness fills my heart as I hold him close to me, before I swallow and take a chance at hoping that he means it when he calls me his.

                                “Thank you as well,” I almost decide against it before my heart speaks for me. “Mon Erik.” The words rolls off my tongue effortlessly, as though they are meant to be said by none other than me.

                Erik flinches, causing me to immediately backtrack in my head as I think of an apology for calling him my own when he gazes at me strangely.

                                “Call me that again.”

                My eyes widen in shock when I hear those words leave his lips.

                                “W-What?” Did I just imagine him saying that?

                                “Call me that again, please.”

                Swallowing and trying not to get my hopes too high, I look at him directly.

                                “Mon Erik.” Again, the words sound right as I say them with more confidence.

                He’s suddenly holding me closer to him, rubbing my back in a soothing manner as he releases a sigh of bliss.

                                “Hmm, I like that.” He states, making my heart go haywire.

                                _I do too._ I think to myself. _But you are upset still and likely do not mean what you say. You’re just looking for a source of stability in your broken world right now._

                My mind will not allow me to believe that it is anything other than his grief that gives him such confidence to say such things, because thinking that I might have a chance with him will only hurt worse when it turns out that it isn’t true.

                                “I’m so sorry for ignoring you all this time.” His voice makes my eyes flutter closed as I lean dependently on him, wishing this moment would never end.

                I try to lighten the dark atmosphere.

                                “Ignore me? You called me the Phantom’s Shadow and sought me out on countless occasions. I’d hardly call that ignoring me.” I tease, hoping to make him feel better, before I answer with seriousness. “It is alright, though, Erik. You have already been forgiven.”

                His body locks up again, like he isn’t willing to accept it.

                                “I do not deserve such easy recompense.” He breathes.

                My lips turn down into a frown upon hearing this, before I look up at him and take his face in both of my hands.

                                “Erik, look at me.” Though he is reluctant, his eyes soon meet with mine. “You are a human, and it is only natural that you are not perfect, just like everyone else. I forgive you, and though you may not believe you deserve it, I do.”

                Shaking his head out of my hands, he frowns as he looks at me.

                                “No, mon Shadow. I am. . .broken.” He confesses, which I know takes a lot of strength for him to admit.

                Hearing him being so brutally honest tears at my heart strings, even though there’s already been so much heartache inside me already.

                                “Mon Erik, how can I help fix you?” I question, wanting nothing more than to help him feel happy; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a joyful state, and to be the cause of it is my only goal.

                He suddenly appears to fold in on himself, and it makes my heart race with fear.

                                “You cannot, dear Shadow.” He sighs, turning away from me. “You should go now. Live out your life. . .in the light.”

                My head is spinning as I try to comprehend what he’s telling me. Even though I’ve explained that I want nothing more than to be with him, it would appear he either doesn’t believe me, or does not want me to stay here with him.

                I become desperate.

                He begins to step away from me, but I throw my hands out and take hold of his arm, not wanting to let him leave me.

                                “Wait! I don’t want to leave you, mon Erik. I’ve already told you this. I want you by my side.” I pant, tears already beginning to slowly trickle down my cheeks at the thought of leaving. “I want you by my side. I know you enjoy the darkness, and I know you believe that I should be in the light, but you can always come with me, just as I stay with you. The light is not only reserved for me! You can experience happiness in the light too. Either way, I am willing to stay with you.” I assure him.

                A sad smile adorns his face, and I hope against all hope that he agrees.

                                “I’m sorry, Shadow. The light is not for me.” He replies as he steps back, removing my hands from around his arm.

                Growing more determined not to let him stay by himself and grow bitter again, I grab his arm again, this time refusing to let go for anything.

                                “Then like I said, I’ll stay with you.” I state firmly.

                He turns to me with a frown, his eyes darkening.

                                “No, Shadow. That’s an order.”

                My breathing grows more rigid as I try to figure out a way to persuade him to let me stay.

                                “No. . .No, please, mon Erik. Please don’t.” I choke out.

                Though I should probably leave, I can’t seem to find any will to. Knowing that Erik is here makes me feel like I have no choice to stay, because I can’t leave him by himself. He’s been here by himself all this time, and if nothing else, I want to be the one friend he has that will not judge him in this dark, low place.

                A frown appears on his face, as he loses all warmth in those brilliant blue eyes.


	16. Don't Make Me Go

Erik's POV

                Though I desperately crave Shadow’s presence while I brood, I cannot let her stay here. It would be selfish on my part, and I’m certain that she couldn’t possibly desire to remain in this cave with a monster such as myself.

                Could she?

                Convincing myself that this is not what she wants, and that it’s only to make me feel better, I harden myself against her protests; I hope to frighten her away with more volume in my voice, like I did with Christine.

                                “No, Shadow.” I begin softly, not wanting to break her again; yet, it’s the only way to give her a chance at living in the light, a place that suits her much better than it does me and will give her the opportunity to reach her fullest potential. “No, Shadow!” I gain the courage to let my voice grow loud and it echoes in this hollow place. “GET OUT!”

                                “No!” She screams back, her voice several octaves higher. I’ve forgotten until now that she has a firm grip on my arm, but she brings it back to my attention once she begins pulling on me, begging me to let her stay. “No. . .” The amplitude of her voice wanes, letting me know that she’s trying not to cry again.

                The look in her eyes makes me feel disgusted with myself, but I can’t let her stay down here. With me being in such a depressed state, it will only make her feel worse. At least in the light up above she can forget about me and live out her life. She is still young, such trivial memories of myself will be easy to remove.

                                _She loves me. It’s not going to be that easy to forget. The destruction I’ve caused alone would make it almost impossible for her to forget._ I shake my head and clear away those thoughts; I have to convince myself that this is what’s best for Shadow. _I am disgusting and vile. It is no place for an angel like Shadow to live._

                This reason gives me more confidence as I push her away, gently so as not to harm her, but with enough force that she has to let go of me and take a step back to keep her balance.

                                “STUBBORN WOMAN, LEAVE!” I bellow, summoning my rage to try and get her to depart.

                When she falls to her knees, my throat grows tight; when she clutches her heart, my resolve begins to crack; when she crawls closer to me, my heart breaks; when she grabs my pant leg and looks into my eyes with tears streaking her cheeks, my eyes soften and fill with liquid again.

                I can’t do this to her.

                                “Erik. . .” She pleads, and I can hardly recognize her voice it’s so desperate and broken. “S’il vous plait.” She weeps, her hand clenching the fabric of my pant leg. “Please, Erik.” A wail escapes her small figure; such a sound is not meant to come from her, and I grow remorseful that I have caused it.

                I can feel my knees weaken, and abruptly I kneel down in front of her and pull her into my embrace, holding her trembling form close to reassure her that I’m here.

                                _How could I possibly think that she would ever leave me? She’s been here all this time, and if she hasn’t left by now, she never will._ I scold myself, kissing the top of her head and running my fingers through her hair. _I truly am a fool_.

                                “Shadow,” I exhale, squeezing my eyes shut as I loosen my grip and hold her gingerly, not wanting to break her. “I am so, so sorry, mon Shadow.” Her soft whimpers are still echoing in my ears. “Please. . .Please do not leave me. I did not mean it.” I try to assure her. “I was trying to think of what was best for you; I thought maybe it would be better for you to live your life out in the light. I see now that you obviously will not be happy that way. I’m so sorry.”

                She doesn’t speak for a long time; the only response I get from her is the clenching and unclenching of her fingers around the fabric of the collar of my shirt, and her weak whimpers that can barely be heard.

                Once she stops, I begin to wonder if she’s used all of her energy and fallen asleep.

                                “I-I don’t want t-to leave, Erik.” Her throat is audibly scratchy, and I can tell it takes every ounce of her strength to speak. “Please, please don’t make me leave.”

                The fear in her voice knocks the wind out of me, and I clench my jaw and close my eyes for a moment as I am overcome with guilt for making her feel this way again.

                                “No, mon Shadow.” I purr, rubbing her back lightly. “You do not have to leave.”

                With these words she relaxes into my hold, and she lets out a deep sigh.

                                “I can stay?” Her tone is skeptical, but I don’t blame her. I have betrayed her trust because I foolishly believed that she would not want to stay with me.

                After all she’s been through to help me and encourage me, I realize that it’s stupid to have even considered the notion that she might leave of her own accord.

                                “You can stay, Little Shadow.” I confirm, rubbing her back again. “I made you cry, but I promise I shall try never to do it again. It shall not happen of my own volition.” I pull back and look at her directly, allowing a weak smile to appear. “You are the only ray of light in this dark and broken world.”

                My mind goes back to the special composition that I have recently been working on for Shadow, and the pieces of music begin to come back to me; I start to hum the notes, hoping to soothe her fears and calm her shivering form.

                The idea that I’ve made her return to this hopeless state makes me despise myself even more, but I focus on remembering the notes from her song, and weave my fingers through her hair to aid in making her calm once more. It takes a while for her to relax, but when I feel her shoulders droop, I know she’s finally been calmed down to the point of rational thought.

                I look down at her, only to find that she’s already gazing up at me with blatant affection.

\-------------------------------------

Shadow's POV

                Upon hearing the notes Erik hums, I can’t help but look up at him. He’s so engrossed in his melody that his eyes have closed without his knowing, and I can feel his fingers delicately running through my hair.

                He appears to have calmed down dramatically since Christine left, but I know that there is an ache in his heart from it that I could never possibly fill. Staying down here, I’m going to have to do everything in my power to keep him happy. It’s going to be my one goal since I know that I will never be the object of his affections. If he doesn’t love me back, then I’ll just have to deal with it and do everything I can to keep him safe and joyful.

                When his eyes meet mine, my heart stutters and I can’t seem to make myself look away.

                Suddenly, a thought springs to mind and I gasp, backing up slightly.

                                “Oh my goodness!” I exclaim, backing up momentarily to cover my mouth. “Erik, the chandelier!”


End file.
